Page:A book of the west; being an introduction to Devon and Cornwall.djvu/319

Then Friday came, and Saturday noon,
⁠All along, etc.
But Tom Pearse's old mare hath not trotted home,
⁠Wi' Bill Brewer, etc.

So Tom Pearse he got up to the top o' the hill,
⁠All along, etc.
And he seed his old mare down a making her will
⁠Wi' Bill Brewer, etc.

So Tom Pearse's old mare, her took sick and died,
⁠All along, etc.
And Tom he sat down on a stone, and he cried
⁠Wi' Bill Brewer, etc.

But this isn't the end o' this shocking affair,
⁠All along, etc.
Nor, though they be dead, of the horrid career
⁠Of Bill Brewer, etc.

When the wind whistles cold on the moor of a night,
⁠All along, etc.
Tom Pearse's old mare doth appear, gashly white,
⁠Wi' Bill Brewer, etc.

And all the long night be heard skirling and groans,
⁠All along, etc.
From Tom Pearse's old mare in her rattling bones,
And from Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy, Dan'l Whiddon,
⁠Harry Hawk, old Uncle Tom Cobbleigh and all.
⁠Chorus.—Old Uncle Tom Cobbleigh and all.