And sometimes four abreast,
With hoes and hooks, and thoughtful looks,
Come clattering on the rest.
The place was gained, all eyes were strained
Upon the brimming vat;
But not an eye its depths could spy,
Or pierce its scum of fat.
“A fearful place,” sighed Elder Chase,
As down he dipped his pole;
“No love or woe could make him throw