rdish job
To teaeke in all the pitches off my pick;
An' dissen zee me groun' en, nother, Bob.
An' thou bist stronger, thou dost think, than I?
Girt bandy-lags! I jist should like to try.
We'll goo, if thou dost like, an' jist zee which
Can heave the mwost, or car the biggest nitch.

BOB.

There, Sam, do meaeke me zick to hear thy braggen!
Why bissen strong enough to car a flagon.

SAM.

You grinnen fool! why I'd zet thee a-blowen,
If thou wast wi' me vor a day a-mowen.
I'd wear my cwoat, an' thou midst pull thy rags off,
An' then in half a zwath I'd mow thy lags off.

BOB.

Thee mow wi' me! Why coossen keep up wi' me:
Why bissen fit to goo a-vield to skimmy,
Or mow down docks an' thistles! Why I'll bet
A shillen, Samel, that thou cassen whet.

SAM.

Now don't thee zay much mwore than what'st a-zaid,
Or else I'll knock thee down, heels over head.

BOB.

Thou knock me down, indeed! Why cassen gi'e
A blow half hard enough to kill a bee.

SAM.

Well, thou shalt veel upon thy chops and snout.

BOB.

Come on, then, Samel; jist let's have woone bout.

WHERE WE DID KEEP OUR FLAGON.

When we in mornen had a-drow'd
The grass or russlen hay abrode,
The lit'some maidens an' the chaps,
Wi' bits o' nunchens in their laps,
Did all zit down upon the knaps
Up there, in under hedge, below
The highest elem o' the row,
Where we did keep our flagon.

There we could zee green vields at hand,
Avore a hunderd on beyand,
An' rows o' trees in hedges roun'
Green meaeds, an' zummerleaezes brown,
An' thorns upon the zunny down,
While aier, vrom the rocken zedge
In brook, did come along the hedge,
Where we did keep our flagon.

There laughen chaps did try in play
To bury maidens up in hay,
As gigglen maidens tried to roll
The chaps down into zome deep hole,
Or sting wi' nettles woone o'm's poll;
While John did hele out each his drap
O' eaele or cider, in his lap
Where he did keep the flagon.

Woone day there spun a whirlwind by
Where Jenny's clothes wer out to dry;
An' off vled frocks, a'most a-catch'd
By smock-frocks wi' their sleeves outstratch'd,
An' caps a-frill'd an' eaeperns patch'd;
An' she a-steaeren in a fright,
Wer glad enough to zee em light
Where we did keep our flagon.

An' when white clover wer a-sprung
Among the eegrass, gree