e a shilling fare with a plough as
you do with the hackneys in town.

Then my nevys too, they must drag me off to go
with them gathering nuts,
And we always set out by the longest way and
return by the shortest cuts.
Short cuts, indeed! But it's nuts to them, to get
a poor lustyish aunt
To scramble through gaps or jump over a
ditch, when they're morally certain she can't,--
For whenever I get in some awkward scrape, and
it's almost daily the case,
Tho' they don't laugh out, the mischievous brats,
I see the hooray! in their face.

There's the other day, for my sight is short, and
I saw what was green beyond,
And thought it was all terry firmer and grass till
I walked in the duckweed pond:
Or perhaps when I've pully-hauled up a bank
they see me come launching down,
As none but a stout London female can do as is
come a first time out of town.
Then how sweet, some say, on a mossy bank a
verdurous seat to find,
But for my part I always found it a joy that
brought a repentance behind;
For the juicy grass with its nasty green has stained
a whole breadth of my gown--
And when gowns are dyed, I needn't say, it's
much better done up in town.
As for country fare, the first morning I came I
heard such a shrill piece of work!
And ever since--and it's ten days ago--we've lived
upon nothing but pork;
One Sunday except, and then I turn'd sick, a
plague take all countrified cooks!
Why didn't they tell me, _before_ I had dined, they
made pigeon pies of the rooks?
Then the gooseberry wine, tho' it's pleasant when
up, it doesn't agree when it's down,
But it served me right like a gooseberry fool to
look for champagne out of town!
To be sure cousin G. meant it all for the best
when he started this pastoral plan,
And his wife is a worthy domestical soul and she
teaches me all that she can,
Such as making of cheese, and curing of hams,
but I'm sure that I never shall learn,
And I've fetched more back-ache than butter as
yet by chumping away at the churn;
But in making hay, tho' it's tanning work, I
found it more easy to make,
But it tries one's legs, and no great relief when
you're tired to sit down on the rake.
I'd a country dance too at harvest home, with a
regular country clown,
But, Lord! they don't hug one round the waist
and give one such smacks in town!
Then I've tried to make friends with the birds