With arms and legs at work and gentle stroke br That urges switching tail nor mends his pace, br On an old ribbed and weather beaten horse, br The farmer goes jogtrotting to the fair. br Both keep their pace that nothing can provoke br Followed by brindled dog that snuffs the ground br With urging bark and hurries at his heels. br His hat slouched down, and great coat buttoned close br Bellied like hooped keg, and chuffy face br Red as the morning sun, he takes his round br And talks of stock: and when his jobs are done br And Dobbin's hay is eaten from the rack, br He drinks success to corn in language hoarse, br And claps old Dobbin's hide, and potters back.