“Yes, that’s all very well, Nat, but we want your song first, and your toast afterwards.”
“I doesn’t care a dump for yer wants; I’ll sing when I has a mind to, and not afore.”
“Well, there’s plenty as can if you can’t.”
“Can’t. Who says I cant sing? I’ll sing e’er a man here for a pint.”
And he broke out into the following pastoral:—
THE GAY PLOUGHBOY.
Come, all you merry ploughboys, and listen to my song;
A tale I have to tell you, which doth to love belong.
He that doth rise up early to lead his team with joy,
And so bravely does his duty like a gay ploughboy.