Hampshire Folklore. 327
Bring your horses in, and rub them down well, And you shall have a mug of my bonny brown ale." Up steps the Carter to the Master, — '•' I vow We've all ploughed our acre, I swear and I vow We're all jolly good fellows that follow your plough." Out came the Master with his scornful look, — " You've not ploughed your acre ! I swear and I vow You're all damned lazy fellows that follow my plough." '
This seems to be a variant of the Wiltshire favourite "The Plough Boy." I met a modern edition in Devonshire tw^o years ago, and did not recognise it for the same song.
At St. Mary Bourne till the middle of the last century the last load was always carried to a chorus of: —
"Well ploughed, well sowed, Well reaped, well mowed, Not a load over drowd : Hip, hip, hurrah ! Harvest home ! "
and a very general harvest supper song was :
" Here's a health unto our Master, the founder of the feast, I hope to God with all my heart his soul in heaven may rest ; That all his works may prosper that ever he takes in hand, For we are all his servants, and all at his command ; Then drink, boys, drink, and mind that you do not spill, For if you do, you ska// drink /wo, with a hearty free goodwill. Chorus. Drink, boys, drink, etc.
And now we've drunk our Master's health our Missus shan't go
free, For I hope and trust her soul will rest in heaven as well as he : For she's a good provider, whatever she takes in hand. For we are all her servants, and all at her command ; Then drink, boys, drink, and mind that you do not spill, For if you do, you shai/ drink /wo, with a hearty free goodwill. Chorus. Then drink, etc."
There is, or was till very recently, a curious custom in