[Suggested by a recently reported incident in the Midlands,
when a pack divided, one part getting out of hand and running
among standing crops.]
Gin a body meet a body
Cubbin' thro' the rye,
Gin a body tell a body,
"Seed 'em in full cry,"
Useless then to blame the puppies,
Useless too to lie;
Whippers-in can't _always_ stop 'em,
Even when they try.
Gin a body meet a body
Cubbin' thro' the rye,
What a body calls a body
Dare I say?--not I;
Farmers get distinctly stuffy,
Neither are they shy,
And Masters, when they're really rattled,
Sometimes make reply.
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