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Wild Flowers - Or, Pastoral and Local Poetry by Robert Bloomfield
page 28 of 76 (36%)

"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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