Page:A Selection of Original Songs, Scraps, Etc., by Ned Farmer (3rd ed.).djvu/64



"And the old master came on his pony and smiled,
 * And unto the mowyers did say,

"Stick to it like bricks, it'll make two good ricks—
 * When it's made, lads—of capital hay.'

Then my feyther spoke up, and said, 'Master, I know
 * You're a very good master, indeed;

In fact, both myself and my Butty here say,
 * You're the best master ever we seed!

We don't mean to shirk it, but, master, look here,
 * We've worked like two Niggers all day,

So, master, God bless you, just stand us some beer,
 * And you shall have two ricks of good hay.'

"Then the master he gi'd the old pony a lick.
 * And he said, as he canter'd along,

'I'll stand you a gallon for each of the ricks!'
 * And he did, and he sent it 'um strong!

My heart, how they leather'd away at their job,
 * My feyther, poor mon, and old Joey,

And at night when the master came round on his cob,
 * They'd both got as drunk, lads, as Cloey.

I well recollect, I'd to help my dad whum,
 * And Griffis's wife helped her master,

'Twas the talk of the village and every one said,
 * That no bottles or scythes e'er went faster!"

is the soul's "safety-valve"—that attended to, all is well!