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Bloomfield, Robert, 1766-1823

"Or, Pastoral and Local Poetry"

Cheerum's best lace cap
"Was mounted on her head;
"Guests at the door began to rap,
"And now the cloth was spread.
"Then clatter went the earthen plates--
"'Mind Judie,' was the cry;
"I could have _cop't_[Footnote: Thrown] them at their pates;
"'Trenchers for me,' said I.
"'That look so clean upon the ledge,
"'And never mind a fall;
"'Nor never turn a sharp knife's edge;--
"'But fashion rules us all.'
"Home came the jovial _Horkey load_,
"Last of the whole year's crop;
"And Grace amongst the green boughs rode
"Right plump upon the top.
"This way and that the waggon reel'd,
"And never queen rode higher;
"_Her_ cheeks were colour'd in the field,
"And ours before the fire.
"The laughing harvest-folks, and John,
"Came in and look'd askew;
"'Twas my red face that set them on,
"And then they leer'd at Sue.
"And Farmer Cheerum went, good man,
"And broach'd the _Horkey beer_;
"And _sitch a mort_[Footnote: Such a number.] of folks began
"To eat up our good cheer.
"Says he, 'Thank God for what's before us;
"'That thus we meet agen,'
"The mingling voices, like a chorus,
"Join'd cheerfully, 'Amen.


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