THE YORKSHIRE HORSE-DEALER

Near to Clapham town-gate lived an old Yorkshire tike,

Who in dealing in horseflesh had ne'er met his like;

'Twas his pride that in all the hard bargains he'd hit,

He'd bit a great many, but never been bit.

(town-gate, high road.)

This old Tommy Tavers (by that name he was known),

Had an old carrion bit that was sheer skin and bone;

To have killed him for the curs would have been quite as well,

But 'twas Tommy's opinion he'd die of himsel.

Well! one Abey Muggins, a neighbouring cheat,

Thought to diddle old Tommy would be a great treat;

He'd a horse, too, 'twas worse than old Tommy's, you see,

Fortnight afore that he'd thought proper to dee!

Thinks Abey, th' old codger'll never smoke t' trick,

I'll swop with him my poor dead horse for his quick,

And if Tommy I nobbut can happen to trap,

'Twill be a fine feather in Aberram cap.

So to Tommy he goes and to Tommy he pops:

"Between my horse and thine, prithee, Tommy, what swops?

What will give me to boot? for mines t' better horse still!"

"Nought," says Tommy, "I'll swop even hands, an ye will."

(nobbut, only.)

Abbey preached a long time about something to boot,

Insisting that his was the liveliest brute;

But Tommy stuck fast where he first had begun,

Till Abey shook hands, and said, "Well Tommy, done."

"O! Tommy," said Abey, "I'se sorry for thee,

I thought thou'd a hadden more white in thy ee;

Good luck's in thy bargain, for my horse is

dead"—

"Hey," says Tommy, "my lad, so is mine, an it's flayed."

So Tommy got t' better of t' bargain, a vast,

And came off with a Yorkshireman's triumph at last;

For though 'twixt dead horses there's not much to choose

Yet Tommy was richer by the hide and four shoes.