The Humourous Story of Farmer Bumpkin's Lawsuit Part 28

Then shout hurrah for Church and State Though 'eretics may scoff, The devil is our head Constable, To take the willins off.

Give me the man that's poor and strong, Hard working and content; Who looks on onger as his lot, In Heaven's wise purpose sent.

Who looks on riches as a snare To ketch the worldly wise; And good roast mutton as a dodge, To blind rich people's eyes.

CHORUS.

Give me the man that labours hard From mornin' until night, And looks at errins as a treat And bacon a delight.

O 'edgin, ditchin, diggin drains, And emptyin pool and d.y.k.e, It beats your galloppin to 'ounds, Your ball-rooms and the like.

CHORUS.

Gi' me the man that loves the Squire With all his might and main; And with the taxes and the rates As never racks his brain.

Who loves the Parson and the Beak As Heaven born'd and sent, And revels in that blessed balm A hongry sweet content.

CHORUS.

Gie me the good Shaksperan man As wants no other books, But them as he no need to spell, The ever runnin brooks: As feeds the pigs and minds the flocks, And rubs the orses down; And like a regler lyal man, Sticks up for Church and Crown."

CHORUS.

At the termination of this pastoral song there was such a hullabaloo of laughter, such a yelling, thumping, and, I grieve to say, swearing, that Mr. b.u.mpkin wondered what on earth was the occasion of it. At the Rent dinner at the Squire's he had always sung it with great success; and the Squire himself had done him the honour to say it was the best song he had ever heard, while the Clergyman had a.s.sured him that the sentiments were so good that it ought to be played upon the organ when the people were coming out of church. And Farmer Grinddown, who was the largest gentleman farmer for miles around, had declared that if men would only act up to that it would be a happy country, and we should soon be able to defy America itself.

Mr. b.u.mpkin, hearing such shouts of laughter, thought perhaps he might have a patch of black on his face, and put his hand up to feel. Then he looked about him to see if his dress was disarranged; but finding nothing amiss, he candidly told them he "couldn't zee what there wur to laugh at thic fas.h.i.+on."

They all said it was a capital song, and wondered if he had any more of the same sort, and hoped he'd leave them a lock of his hair-and otherwise manifested tokens of enthusiastic approbation.

Mr. b.u.mpkin, however, could not quite see their mirth in the same light, so he turned on his heel and, beckoning to Joe, left the room in high dudgeon, not to say disdain.

"Mind Joe-no truck wi un."

"Why, maister, he knows my sister."

"d.a.m.n thee sister, Joe; it be a lie."

"Be it? here's some o' the bacca he brought up from Okleton, I tell ee."

"I tell thee, have nowt to do wi un; we shall be on t'morrer, we be tenth in the list."

"Ay," said Joe, "we bin igher in list un thic, we bin as near as eight; I shall be mighty glad when it be over."

"An get back to pigs, aye, Joe?"

"Aye, maister."

"Nothin like oame, Joe, be there?" and Mr. b.u.mpkin turned away.

"No," said Joe; "no, maister, if so be" (and this was spoken to himself) "if so be you got a oame."

Then I saw that Joe rejoined his companions, amongst whom a conversation was going on as to the merits of the song. Some said one thing and some another, but all condemned it as a regular toading to the Parson and the Squire: and as for the Beak, how any man could praise him whose only duty was to punish the common people, no one could see. The company were getting very comfortable. The Sergeant had called for another gla.s.s of that delectable grog whose very perfume seemed to inspire everyone with goodfellows.h.i.+p, and they all appeared to enjoy the Sergeant's liquor without tasting it.

"What do you say to a game of dominoes?" said Harry.

"They won't allow em ere," said Lazyman.

"Won't they," answered Outofwork. "I'll warrant if the Sergeant likes to play there's no landlord'll stop him, ay, Sergeant?"

"Well, I believe," said the Sergeant, "as one of the Queen's servants, I have the privilege of playing when I like."

"Good," said Harry, "and I'll be a Queen's man too, so out with the s.h.i.+lling, Sergeant."

"Wait till the morning," said the Sergeant.

"No," said Harry. "I've had enough waiting. I'm on, give me the s.h.i.+lling."

The Sergeant said, "Well, let me see, what height are you?" and he stood up beside him.

"Ah!" he said, "I think I can get you in," saying which he gave him a s.h.i.+lling; such a bright coin, that it seemed to have come fresh from the Queen's hand.

Then the Sergeant took out some beautiful bright ribbons which he was understood to say (but did _not_ say) the Queen had given him that morning. Then he rang the bell, and the buxom waitress appearing he asked for the favour of a needle and thread, which, the radiant damsel producing, with her own fair fingers she sewed the ribbons on to Harry's cap, smiling with admiration all the while. Even this little incident was not without its effect on the observant "head witness," and he felt an unaccountable fascination to have the same office performed by the same fair hands on his own hat.

Then, without saying more, a box of dominoes was produced, and Joe soon found himself, he did not know how, the Sergeant's partner, while Lazyman and Outofwork were opposed to them.

"Is it pooty good livin in your trade, Mr. Sergeant?" asked Joe.

"Not bad," said the Sergeant; "that is five-one, I think"-referring to the play.

"Rump steaks and ingons aint bad living," said Outofwork.

"No," said the Sergeant, "and there's nothing I like better than a good thick mutton chop for breakfast-let me see, what's the game?"

"Ah!" said Joe, smacking his lips, "mutton chops is the best thing out; I aint had one in my mouth, though, for a doocid long time; I likes em with plenty o' fat an gravy loike."

"You see," said the Sergeant, "when you've been out for a two or three mile ride before breakfast in the fresh country air, a chap wants something good for breakfast, and a mutton chop's none too much for him."

"No," answered Joe, "I could tackle three."

"Yes," said Sergeant Goodtale, "but some are much larger than others."

"So em be," agreed Joe.

"What's the game," enquired the Sergeant.

"Two-one," said Joe.

"One's all," said the soldier.

"I tell ee what," remarked Joe, "if I was going to list, there's no man as I'd liefer list wi than you, Mr. Sergeant."

"Domino!" said the Sergeant, "that's one to us, partner!"