Wild Flowers - Or, Pastoral and Local Poetry by Robert Bloomfield
page 28 of 76 (36%)
page 28 of 76 (36%)
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"Still they kept up the race and laugh, "And round the house we flew; "But hark ye! the best fun by half "Was Simon _arter_ Sue. "She car'd not, dark nor light, not she, "So, near the dairy door "She pass'd a clean white hog, you see, "They'd _kilt_ the day before. "High on the spirket [Footnote: An iron hook.] there it hung,-- "'Now Susie--what can save ye?' "Round the cold pig his arms he flung, "And cried, 'Ah! here I have ye!' "The farmers heard what Simon said, "And what a noise! good lack! "Some almost laugh'd themselves _to dead_, "And others clapt his back. "We all at once began to tell "What fun we had abroad; "But Simon stood our jeers right well; --"He fell asleep and snor'd. "Then in his button-hole upright, "Did Farmer Crouder put, "A slip of paper twisted tight, "And held the candle _to't_. |
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