“She was the only darter I ivver had.”
John Dutfen.
Is it extravagant to believe that this simple story, told by a country parson, is worth whole pages of learned arguments against Disestablishment? [57] Anyhow, to support such arguments, I will here cite an ancient ditty of my father’s. He had got it from “a true East Anglian, of Norfolk lineage and breeding,” but the exegesis is wholly my father’s own.
VII.
Robin Cook’s wife [58a] she had an old mare, [58b]
Humpf, humpf, hididdle, humpf!
And if you’d but seen her, Lord! how you’d have stared, [58c]
Singing, “Folderol diddledol, hidum humpf.”
This old mare she had a sore back, [58d]
Humpf, &c.
And on her sore back there was hullt an old sack, [58e]
Singing, &c.
Give the old mare some corn in the sieve, [59a]
Humpf, &c.
And ’tis hoping God’s husband (sic) the old mare may live,
Singing, &c.
This old mare she chanced for to die, [59b]
Humpf, &c.
And dead as a nit in the roadway she lie, [59c]
Singing, &c.
All the dogs in the town spŏok for a bone, [59d]
Humpf, &c.
All but the Parson’s dog, [59e] he went wi’ none,
Singing, “Folderol diddledol, hidum humpf.”