Then love’s dear delights will I barter for drilling:
You sure can’t refuse me? O no, my love, no.
THE COLLIERS RANT.
As me and my marrow was ganning to wark,
We met with the devil, it was in the dark;
I up with my pick, it being in the neit,
I knock’d off his horns, likewise his club feet.
Follow the horses, Johnny my lad oh!