I will smash each one in his shell;
But when it rains you can roll the grass,
When dry can water it well.
You say you can't wet your boots—alas!—
Nor work when it's warm, ma belle?
And yet your wages you claim;
I should like to know what you do.
In truth I can't bear to blame
Such a sweet pretty girl as you;
So stop as my gardener all the same—