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Dobbin's Friend
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Dobbin has a little friend,
Spotted white and sable;
Every day she goes to him
In his lonely stable.
Not a mite of dread has she,
Not a thought of danger;
Lightly runs between his hoofs,
Jumps upon his manger.
Lays her soft, warm cheek to his,
Purrs her meek 'Good-morning!'
Gives the flies that hover near
such a look of warning!
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