Under all they fellers lyin’—
Pegs!—I thought as I wur dyin’.
“But the Squire (I thenks I zee un),
Varmer Whitfield ridin’ wi’ un,
Fot I out o’ all thuck caddle,
Stretched athurt the varmer’s zaddle—
Bless ’em, pegs in yeard and stye,
Them two vrends as stuck to I.
“Barkshire men, vrom Hill and Vale,
All as ever hears this tale,