iirSCELLAXEOUS. 73 



Down the deep, the mirj lane, 

 Creaking comes the empty wain, 

 And Driver on the shaft-horse sits, 

 Whistling now and then bj fits ; 

 And oft, with his accustomed call, 

 Urging on the sluggish Ball. 

 The barn is still, the master's gone. 

 And Thresher puts his jacket on, 

 AVhile Dick, upon the ladder tall. 

 Nails the dead kite to the wall. 

 Here comes shepherd Jack at last. 

 He has penned the sheep-cote fast, 

 For 'twas but two nights before, 

 A lamb was eaten on the moor : 

 His empty wallet Rover carries, 

 Nor for Jack, when near home, tarries. 

 With lolling tongue he runs to try 

 If the horse trough be not dry. 

 The milk is settled in the pans, 

 And supper messes in the cans ; 

 In the hovel carts are wheeled, 

 And both the colts are drove a-field ; 

 The horses are all bedded up, 

 And the ewe is with the tup. 

 The snare for Mister Fox is set. 

 The leaven laid, the thatching wet, 

 And Bess has slinked away to talk 

 With Roger in the holly-walk. 



Now on the settle all, but Bess, 

 Are set to eat their supper mess ; 

 And little Tom, and roguish Kato, 

 Are swinging on the meadow gale. 

 Now they chat of various things, 

 Of taxes, ministers, and kings. 

 Or else tell all the village news, 

 How madam did the 'squire refuse ; 

 How parson on his tithes was bent, 

 And landlord oft distrained for rent. 

 Thus do they talk, till in the sky 



