IV.

The Farmer's Boy (New Style).

The Hun was set on making us fret
For lack of food to eat,
When up there ran a City man
In gaiters trim and neat--
Oh, just tell me if a farm there be
Where I can get employ,
To plough and sow for PROTH-ER-O,
And he a farmer's boy,
And be a farmer's boy.

"In khaki dight my juniors fight--
I wish that I could too;
But since the land's in need of hands
There's work for me to do;
Though you call me a 'swell,' I would labour well--
I'm aware it's not pure joy--
To plough and sow for PROTH-ER-O
And be a farmer's boy,
And be a farmer's boy."

The farmer quoth, "I be mortal loth,
But the farm 'tis goin' back,
And I do declare as I can't a-bear
Any farming hands to lack;
So if you've got grit and be middlin' fit