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Dalyriple

   Once there was a horse, and his name was Dalyriple.

   Dalyriple could trot, and Dalyriple could canter. Dalyriple could plow as straight as an arrow.

   Every morning, the farmer who owned Dalyriple got out of bed and shaved off his whiskers.  Then he ate his cereal and went to the barn to harness Dalyriple.

   "Work, Dalyriple," said the farmer. So Dalyriple worked, and he did a fine job.

   But one morning, the farmer got out of bed and shaved off his whiskers. Then he ate his cereal and went to the barn to harness Dalyriple.

   "Work, Dalyriple," said the farmer. But Dalyriple said, "No! Not if the thunder roars. Not if the lightning flames. Not if the skies open. I will not work."

   So the lightning roared. The lighting flamed.

   The skies split open with the noise they made.

   Dalyriple would not work and the farmer's fields looked poor.

   Next morning, the farmer got out of bed and shaved off his whiskers. Then he ate his cereal and went to the barn to harness Dalyriple.

   "Work, Dalyriple," said the farmer.

   But Dalyriple said, "No! Not if the hail falls. Not in the fog swallows the earth. Not if the sun hides at noon. I will not work."

   So the hail fell. The fog swallowed the earth.

   The sun hid at noon.

   But Dalyriplewould not work and the farmer's field looked poor.

   Next morning, the farmer got out of bed and shaved off his whiskers. Then he ate his cereal and went to the barn to harness Dalyriple.

   "Work, Dalyriple,"  said the farmer.

   But Dalyriple said, "No! Not if it rains cats and dogs. Not if it snows icicles and sleds. Not if it freezes seventeen ways and back again. I will not work."

   So it rained cats and dogs.

   It snowed icicles and sleds.

   It froze seventeen ways and back again.

   But Dalyriple would not work and the farmer's feild looked poor.

   Next morning, the farmer got out of bed and shaved off his whiskers. Then he ate his cereal and went to the barn to harness Dalyriple.

   "Work, Dalyriple, said the farmer. "Please work."

   "Ah!" said Dalyriple happily. "A horse that can trot and canter and gallop and plow as straight as an arrow does like to hear 'please' now and then."                                          

   The thunder and lightning , the hail and the fog, the sun, the rain, and the snow, the cats and dogs, and the icicles and the sleds sighed with relief. So did the farmer.                                        

   Dalyriple put his shoulders into the collar and plowed with a right good will. Up a row and down a row he went, as straight as an arrow and the farner's field looked fine.                                  

   "Good night," said Dalyriple at the end of the day.                                                                        

   "Good night," said the farmer, "and thank you."