But if ever they must fight
They are in sorry plight
And they turn round and run for ever so far.'
"How do you like that song, Papa?"
"Well, that is such as Lower Wooders would make," said the father.
"And then," Edi continued, "we have made a song for an answer, that goes thus:
"'And of Lower Wood the crowd
They always yell so loud
That they never, never stay within their den,
For all dispute and strife