Of their lucerne, their tares,
Their apples, their pears,
Their boars and their sows,
Their calves and their cows;
But one and all joined, when the dinner had past,
In the cry "Now the raffle; who'll win her at last?"
But amidst all the noise one farmer was still,
Till he'd given his stomach a right hearty fill.
Then from deep 'neath his waistcoat a deeper voice stuttered,
"Cousin Stumps, thou'lt be in't, mind, and I'll share wi' you,