- XXV -
- This time of year a twelvemonth past,
- When Fred and I would meet,
- We needs must jangle, till at last
- We fought and I was beat.
- So then the summer fields about,
- Till rainy days began,
- Rose Harland on her Sundays out
- Walked with the better man.
- The better man she walks with still,
- Though now 'tis not with Fred:
- A lad that lives and has his will
- Is worth a dozen dead.
- Fred keeps the house all kinds of weather,
- And clay's the house he keeps;
- When Rose and I walk out together
- Stock-still lies Fred and sleeps.
- XXVI -
- Along the field as we came by
- A year ago, my love and I,
- The aspen over stile and stone
- Was talking to itself alone.
- "Oh who are these that hiss and pass?
- A country lover and his lass;
- Two lovers looking to be wed;
- And time shall put them both to bed,
- But she shall lie with earth above,
- And he beside another love."
- And sure enough beneath the tree
- There walks another love with me,
- And overhead the aspen heaves
- Its rainy-sounding silver leaves;
- And I spell nothing in their stir,
- But now perhaps they speak to her,
- And plain for her to understand
- They talk about a time at hand
- When I shall sleep with clover clad,
- And she beside another lad.
- "Is my team ploughing,
- That I was used to drive
- And hear the harness jingle
- When I was man alive?"
- Ay, the horses trample,
- The harness jingles now;
- No change though you lie under
- The land you used to plough.
- "Is football playing
- Along the river shore,
- With lads to chase the leather,
- Now I stand up no more?"
- Ay, the ball is flying,
- The lads play heart and soul;
- The goal stands up, the keeper
- Stands up to keep the goal.
- "Is my girl happy,
- That I thought hard to leave,
- And has she tired of weeping
- As she lies down at eve?"
- Ay, she lies down lightly,
- She lies not down to weep,
- Your girl is well contented.
- Be still, my lad, and sleep.
- "Is my friend hearty,
- Now I am thin and pine,
- And has he found to sleep in
- A better bed than mine?"
- Yes, lad, I lie easy,
- I lie as lads would choose;
- I cheer a dead man's sweetheart,
- Never ask me whose.