at-tail gone,
An' tother jist a-hangen on,
A-zweal'd so black's a snoff.

[Gothic: Eclogue.]

THE COMMON A-TOOK IN.

_Thomas an' John._

THOMAS.

Good morn t'ye, John. How b'ye? how b'ye?
Zoo you be gwain to market, I do zee.
Why, you be quite a-lwoaded wi' your geese.

JOHN.

Ees, Thomas, ees.
Why, I'm a-getten rid ov ev'ry goose
An' goslen I've a-got: an' what is woose,
I fear that I must zell my little cow.

THOMAS.

How zoo, then, John? Why, what's the matter now?
What, can't ye get along? B'ye run a-ground?
An' can't pay twenty shillens vor a pound?
What can't ye put a lwoaf on shelf?

JOHN.
Ees, now;
But I do fear I shan't 'ithout my cow.
No; they do mean to teaeke the moor in, I do hear,
An' 'twill be soon begun upon;
Zoo I must zell my bit o' stock to-year,
Because they woon't have any groun' to run upon.

THOMAS.

Why, what d'ye tell o'? I be very zorry
To hear what they be gwain about;
But yet I s'pose there'll be a 'lotment vor ye,
When they do come to mark it out.

JOHN.

No; not vor me, I fear. An' if there should,
Why 'twoulden be so handy as 'tis now;
Vor 'tis the common that do do me good,
The run for my vew geese, or vor my cow.

THOMAS.

Ees, that's the job; why 'tis a handy thing
To have a bit o' common, I do know,
To put a little cow upon in Spring,
The while woone's bit ov orcha'd grass do grow.

JOHN.

Aye, that's the thing, you zee. Now I do mow
My bit o' grass, an' meaeke a little rick;
An' in the zummer, while do grow,
My cow do run in common vor to pick
A bleaede or two o' grass, if she can vind em,
Vor tother cattle don't leaeve much behind em.
Zoo in the evenen, we do put a lock
O' nice fresh grass avore the wicket;
An' she do come at vive or zix o'clock,
As constant as the zun, to pick it.
An' then, bezides the cow, why we do let
Our geese run out among the emmet hills;
An' then when we do pluck em, we do get
Vor zeaele zome veathers an' zome quills;
An' in the winter we do fat em well,
An' car em to the market vor to zell
To gentlevo'ks, vor we don't oft avvword
To put a goose a-top ov ouer bwoard;
But we do get our feaest,--vor we be eaeble
To clap the giblets up a-top o' teaeble.

THOMAS.

An' I don't know o' many better things,
Than geese's heads and gizzards, lags an' wings.

J