What bird so sings, yet does so wail?
’Tis philomel, the nightingale;
“Jugg! jugg! terue!” she cries,
And hating earth to heaven she flies.
ESSEX
Eat birds, eat, and fear not,
Here lie I and care not,
But if my master should happen to come,
With his short whip, and his long gun,
You must fly and I must run.
I will sing you a song
Of the days that are long,
Of the woodcock and the sparrow,
Of the little dog that burnt his tail,
And shall be whipt to-morrow.
DORSET RIME
Vlee away, blackie cap!
Don’t ye hurt measter’s crap,
While I vill my tatie trap,
And lie down and teak a nap.