Page:A Selection of Original Songs, Scraps, Etc., by Ned Farmer (3rd ed.).djvu/147

 

"There's one where that dog is—he's shifted—ne'er mind:
They'll all be crept into one corner you'll find.
Halloo! there's a great un'! Hie Tartar!—good lad—
He's got him: look yonder—they're bolting like mad."
My soul, there's a scuffle. "Be careful, I begs—
You'll have those fork-tines into somebody's legs!"
"Look out, Mr. Benton; there's one at your back,
On the top of the chaff-hole—just give him a crack."
"Mind, mind where you're hitting—there's one up the wall."
Oh! I thought it a mouse, by its being so small."
"No, no, it's a rat, look—and here are the rest—
There's twelve or thirteen of them down in this nest."
They are nearing the bottom—each sheaf they displace
Yields a rat, which produces a kill, or a race.
"Good Tartar! hie, Nettle! dead, dead!—Pincher drop it."
"There's one up the wall again—Petipher, stop it."
"Now, clumsey!—"he's miss'd him!" "Oh! he's safe enough;
He's popped through that air hole and into the sough."
"Bill Hawkins, run round, lad, and look out a bit—
They're certain to make for the "kid pile" or "pit."
The bay is alive with them,—hark! what a row, sirs,
A young one has crept up Jack Harris's trowsers,
Who pales with affright, and exerting his muscle,
Belabours the place where a maid ties her bustle.
And thus they kept shouting and whacking away,
Till at last they got down to the floor of the bay,
Where full thirty old ones, 'tis true, on my soul—
Were found (as is often the case,) in one hole.
And then, such an uproar, when they were got out,
Such shouting, and barking, and running about;.