Eight farms avore they wer a-drowd together,
An' eight farm-housen. Now how many be there?
Why after this, you know there'll be but dree.
THOMAS.
An' now they don't imploy so many men
Upon the land as work'd upon it then,
Vor all they midden crop it worse, nor stock it.
The lan'lord, to be sure, is into pocket;
Vor half the housen beën down, 'tis clear,
Don't cost so much to keep em up, a-near.