A Burlesque Cantata

Unhappy me, what shall I do?
My poor, dear mare has lost her shoe,
And I've no money to buy her new.
Some drunken rascal in the night
Has torn her saddle out of spite;
'Thas ruin'd and undone me quite.

But what does most my soul assail
Is that, in fury of his ale,
The cursed sot has lopp'd her tail.

Aria Affettuosa

Oh mare, Oh mare, well may'st thou grumble;
Thy shoe is lost, and thou must stumble.
Surely the fellow's brains were addle
That cropp'd thy tail, and tore thy saddle.