You'll be give a dainty doll, all the way from France,
With a cap of Valenciennes, and a velvet hood--
A present from the Gentlemen, along o' being good!

Five-and-twenty ponies,
Trotting through the dark--
Brandy for the Parson,
'Baccy for the Clerk.
Them that asks no questions isn't told a lie--
Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!

'DYMCHURCH FLIT'

The Bee Boy's Song

Bees! Bees! Hark to your bees!
'Hide from your neighbours as much as you please,
But all that has happened, to us you must tell,
Or else we will give you no honey to sell!'

A Maiden in her glory,
Upon her wedding-day,
Must tell her Bees the story,
Or else they'll fly away.
Fly away--die away--
Dwindle down and leave you!
But if you don't deceive your Bees,
Your Bees will not deceive you.

Marriage, birth or buryin',
News across the seas,
All you're sad or merry in,
You must tell the Bees.
Tell 'em coming in an' out,
Where the Fanners fan,
'Cause the Bees are justabout
As curious as a man!

Don't you wait where trees are,
When the lightnings play;
Nor don't you hate where Bees are,
Or else they'll pine away.
Pine away--dwine away--
Anything to leave you!
But if you never grieve your Bees,
Your Bees'll never grieve you!

Just at dusk, a soft September rain began to fall on the hop-pickers.
The mothers wheeled the bouncing perambulators out of the gardens; bins
were put away, and tally-books made up. The young couples strolled
home, two to each umbrella, and the single men walked behind them
laughing. Dan and Una, who had been picking after their lessons,
marched off to roast potatoes at the oast-house, where old Hobden, with
Blue-eyed Bess, his lurcher dog, lived all the month through, drying
the hops.

They settled themselves, as usual, on the sack-strewn cot in front of
the fires, and, when Hobden drew up the shutter, stared, as usual, at
the flameless bed of coals spouting its heat up the dark well of the
old-fashioned roundel. Slowly he cracked off a few fresh pieces of
coal, packed them, with fingers that never flinched, exactly where they
would do most good; slowly he reached behind him till Dan tilted the
potatoes into his iron scoop of a hand; carefully he arranged them
round the fire, and then stood for a moment, black against the glare.
As he closed the shutter, the oast-house see