At any rate we knows full well it can't be to lay on moor taxes.
We'm to put down in black-on-white, our cows, and pigs, and ship, and hosses;
Which them as don't know how to write I s'pose must do by means o' crosses:
Our wheat, our barley, wuts, and rye, our beans, our hay, and straw moreover,
Our mangold-wurzel, turmuts, ay, and taters, sainfoin, too, and clover.
P'raps we shall likewise ha' to state the number of our ploughs and harrows,
Wheel carriages, both small and great, from carts and waggons down to barrows,
Machines that to the farm belongs, our clod crushers and scarifiers,
And all our forks, and rakes, and prongs, according as the case requires.
Our poultry booked they may expect—returns o' turkeys and gallanies,