Part 6 (1/2)

Who said: ”You English rogue, look here!

What fruits and spices fine Our land produces twice a year!

Thou hast not such in thine!”

The Ches.h.i.+re man ran to his hold, And fetched a Ches.h.i.+re cheese, And said: ”Look here, you dog, behold, We have such fruits as these!

”Your fruits are ripe but twice a year, As you yourself do say; But such as I present you here, Our land brings twice a day.”

The Spaniard in a pa.s.sion flew, And his rapier took in hand; The Ches.h.i.+re man kicked up his heels, Saying: ”Thou art at my command.”

So never let a Spaniard boast While Ches.h.i.+re men abound, Lest they should teach him, to his cost, To dance a Ches.h.i.+re round.

THREE WELCH HUNTERS

There were three jovial Welchmen, As I've heard them say, And they would go a-hunting Upon St David's day.

All the day they hunted, And nothing could they find, But a s.h.i.+p a-sailing, A-sailing with the wind.

One said it was a s.h.i.+p, The other said, nay; The third said it was a house, And the chimney blown away.

And all the night they hunted, And nothing could they find, But the moon a-gliding, A-gliding with the wind.

One said it was the moon The other said, nay; The third said it was a cheese, And half o't cut away.

LAMENT OF A MOTHER, WHOSE CHILD WAS STOLEN BY FAIRIES

_From the Gaelic._

I left my bairnie lying here, Lying here, lying here; I left my bairnie lying here, To go and gather blaeberries.

I've found the wee brown otter's track, Otter's track, otter's track; I've found the wee brown otter's track, But cannot trace my bairnie, O!

I found the swan's track on the lake, On the lake, on the lake; I found the swan's track on the lake, But cannot trace my bairnie, O!

I found the track of the yellow fawn, Yellow fawn, yellow fawn; I found the track of the yellow fawn, But cannot trace my bairnie, O!

I found the trail of the mountain mist, Mountain mist, mountain mist; I found the trail of the mountain mist, But cannot trace my bairnie, O!

This is my birthday, do you know?

Once I was four, that's long ago; Once I was three, and two, and one, Only a baby that could not run.

Now I am five, so old and so strong, I could run races all the day long!

And I mean to grow bigger, and stronger, and older, Some day perhaps I shall be a brave soldier.

I think I'm the happiest boy alive!

Oh, wouldn't you like to be me--now I'm five?

GRACE FOR A LITTLE CHILD