you cared to hear it--" "That we do," said I, "rattle it off!"--And she
sang a ditty--I had never heard it before, but I remember it well
enough, and it ran this way:--

* * * * *

But now I will tell you a story about a Poorman [gipsy] and what
happened to him.

"If," said he--Mads Ur--"if you have been in Herning or thereabout, you
know that there is a great marsh south of it. That same marsh is not so
very nice to cross for those that don't know it well.

"It was the summer I was working for Kristens that a cow sank down out
there, and it was one of those I was watching. I took her by the horns
and I took her by the tail, but she would not help herself at all, and
when one won't do a little bit, what is going to become of one? As I
stand there pulling at that same refractory cow, up comes a Poorman from
over at Rind, one of those they call knackers. 'I'll have to help you,'
said he: 'you take hold of the horns, and I'll lift the tail.' That
worked, for he pricked her under the tail with his pikestaff, and she
was of a mind to help herself too. 'What do you give me for that now?'
said he. 'I have nothing to give you,' said I, 'nothing but thanks.' 'I
won't have them,' answered he, 'but if ever I should sink down on one
road or another, will you lend me a hand if you are near by?' 'That I
will do, indeed,' answered I; and then he tramped up to town, and
that was all.

"How was it now that I came to work in Sund's parsonage?--well, that
doesn't matter--I could swing a scythe, but how old I was I don't
remember, for I don't rightly know how old I am now. The parson was a
mighty good man, but God help us for the wife he had! She was as bad to
him as any woman could be, and he hadn't a dog's chance with her. I have
saved him twice from her grip, for he was a little scared mite of a
thing, and she was big and strong, but I was stronger still, and I could
get the better of her. Once she chased him around the yard with a knife
in her hand, and cried that she would be even with him. I did not like
that, so I took the knife from her and warned her to behave
herself,--but that wasn't what I meant to say. Well, once while I was
working there I stood near the pond looking at the aftermath. And up
comes this same customer--this Poorman--drifting along the road toward
me, and he had two women following him, and they each had a cradle on
their backs and a child in each cradle. 'Good day to you,'