A Selection of Original Songs, Scraps, Etc., by Ned Farmer (3rd ed.)/Mark Mansfield or the Two Ricks of Hay
Mark Mansfield or the Two Ricks of Hay.
A modern pastoral.
Mark Mansfield, the mower, was merry and blythe,
As the lark that sung over his head,
And he joked with his mates as he whetted his scythe,
And gaily he laughed as he said,
"I remember this leasow when I was a lad,
And the young master here quite a child;
There was such a swath, and the mowing was bad,
And it druv' my poor feyther half wild;
For himself and Joe Griffis had taken the job,
At so much per acre, to do—
And to find their own drink—so you'll easily think
'Twas a deuce of a job for them two!
"And the old master came on his pony and smiled,
And unto the mowyers did say,
"Stick to it like bricks, it'll make two good ricks—
When it's made, lads—of capital hay.'
Then my feyther spoke up, and said, 'Master, I know
You're a very good master, indeed;
In fact, both myself and my Butty here say,
You're the best master ever we seed!
We don't mean to shirk it, but, master, look here,
We've worked like two Niggers all day,
So, master, God bless you, just stand us some beer,
And you shall have two ricks of good hay.'
"Then the master he gi'd the old pony a lick.
And he said, as he canter'd along,
'I'll stand you a gallon for each of the ricks!'
And he did, and he sent it 'um strong!
My heart, how they leather'd away at their job,
My feyther, poor mon, and old Joey,
And at night when the master came round on his cob,
They'd both got as drunk, lads, as Cloey.
I well recollect, I'd to help my dad whum,
And Griffis's wife helped her master,
'Twas the talk of the village and every one said,
That no bottles or scythes e'er went faster!"
Conscience is the soul's "safety-valve"—that attended to, all is well!