Sometimes to hob and nob ’em
With Memory’s glass—at such a pass
Remember me at Cobham!
Have pigs you will, and sometimes kill,
But if you sigh and sob ’em,
And cannot eat your home-grown meat,
Remember me at Cobham!
Of hen and cock, you’ll have a stock,
And death will oft unthrob ’em,—
A country chick is good to pick—