THERE was grieving in the woodshed,

In the kitchen there were tears,
When morning showed that Tray was dead
Our friend of many years.

Ah, I can well remember

How the little children cried
And lifted up their voices
When the old dog died.

They clasped his rough and shaggy neck,

They called his name in vain.
No more when Tommy whistled
Would Tray bound forth again.
The children ate no breakfast,

But seated by his side
They mourned their dearest \ play mate
When the old dog died.

For thirteen summers he had brought

The milk cows home at night,
And all that time he 'd watched the house
From dark till morning light.
He 'd even rock the cradle

With a sort of canine pride;
No wonder that the baby wept
When the old dog died.

He 'd go half way to school with them,
Then stand in lonesome plight

And wag his Demosthenic tail
Till they were out of sight;

Then trot him home to sleep and snooze

Within his kennel wide.
Ah, how the children missed him,
When the old dog died.

They smoothed that dear old head of his,

And offered milk and meat,
And little Tommy tried to lift
His old friend on his feet.

In vain! that old tail wagged no more,

The son'rous tongue was tied,
And Tommy brought the cattle home,
When the old dog died.