‘ Night will come on; when seated snug,
‘ And you've perhaps begun some tale,
‘ Can you then leave your dear stone mug;
‘ Leave all the folks, and all the Ale?’
‘ Ay, Kate, I wool;— because I know,
‘ Though time has been we both could run,
‘ Such days are gone and over now;—
‘ I only mean to see the fun.’
She straight slipp'd off the Wall and Band,
And laid aside her Lucks and Twitches:
And to the Hutch she reach'd her hand,
And gave him out his Sunday Breeches.
His Mattock he behind the door
And Hedging-gloves again replac'd;
And look'd across the yellow Moor,
And urg'd his tott'ring Spouse to haste.