It’s a steep hill just up ahead

And by the roadside my friend lays dead

He didn’t make it up the hill

His load too heavy, not meant to kill

His legs were weak and over used

Beaten daily, so abused

His fate was sealed long, long, ago

His master bad and wicked through

I’m waiting by a farmer’s field

He sewed the corn, there’s quite a yield

The corn is cut,  to take to town

The sun so hot, as it shines down

The clouds, like puff balls in the sky

Float past, as flocks of birds fly by

My master works, as sack after sack

He lifts and loads upon my back

My packs are on, I strain to stand

But my master’s there, to lend a hand

He’s kind and takes great care of me

Gives me water, in the shade of a tree

And when I get too out of breath

He stops and waits to let me rest

I’m a lucky donkey, unlike my friend

Whom I will remember, until my end