Away, just like a whiff of smoke,
That scuds before the autumn blast!
A second husbandman that morn,
Was quick astir, he fancied he
Did hear, a wailing in his barn,
A moan, as of the wild banshee!
He thought to catch the female sprite,
For truth, he was a festive scamp,
But got a sort of snub, when he,