POETRY.

HODGE AND A LIBERATIONIST.

WELL, SO yer've been and done it ; yer've got me a vote at last ; Makes my head that dizzy, yer do go on so fast. Just like takin' a seed, and chukkin't in ground won day, An' next morn grass up an' reddy to cut for hay !

Jim he says, " All right, we're goin' it railway speed ;" Will says, " Yer'l upset it, yer will, if yer doant take heed ;" I says, " Draw it mild ; I'm a moderate man, yer know, Summat between Hexpress an' Parlamentary slow !"

Well now, Sir, my vote ? I s'pose it's right ; leastway, Sqnoire, he look'd that sweet, when I pass'd un yesterday ; Summat he said o' my cottage, "It wanted thatchin', he'd see." Farmers, they doant look sweet, they niver looks sweet to me.

What did yer say ? The land ! "They've taken away our land ? And Squoire, he 'closed our Common ?" Well, that I can understand.

If he's a-willin' to give it un back, that'l soot me quite ; If he aint willin', why then me an' Squoire 'ull have to fight.

What I wants is laud for a cow—keep that i yer head ! If Squoire sticks to Common, his park 'all do instead. Woant say nowt of arrears, I wish to hact as a frend : Giv' me land for a cow, an' least said soonest mend !

Childern ? I said it afore : have yer to teach 'em free.

Cottage ? The bigger the better! Th' ould house woant do for me. When I grow ould ? Why, then I'll want the parish to pay Summat to keep un going; let's say a shillin' a day.

Parson ? Aye, there's the dickens—wi' all his Latin and Greek, Keeps hissen fro' bustin' by tappin' it once a weekDunnaw what he wall say ; an' if be doant go for we, But sticks to Squoire an' farmers, then what'l we do wi' he ?

Nothin' to say agiu him ; a werry good sort o' a man ; Crissens, an' marries, an' berries, as well as ony won can; 'S wife, too, she's a good 'un with soup, an' a pudden, an' pill ; Nothin' she likes so much as to hear when folks is ill.

Jim says, "Down wi' his tithe !" He goes to chappul, does Jim. "Thank you for nothin'," says I, "it's the land as pays for him. D'ye think I want to pay tin?" "Yer'l get more wage," says he, "If so be as Squoire can let his land tithe-free."

" Sammat in that," says I. But then, says Will—he knows More nor he looks—" What's wage, if as fast as it comes it goes? Summun must pay for Parson ; if not the land, then you'! Have to pay all his fees just double." (That Will's no fool.) " Snmmat in that !" says I, and then I scratches my head : Thinkin's not my line like them as to books is bred. Besides I wishes un well : he were oilers good to me : Let alone the young uns, as he asks to a school-feast tea.

Mebbee, be woant stand stiff, but he'll throw in's lot wi' the poor, Not wi' prayer-booky folk as drives to the Church's door. Them's not what God cares for : at least so I heard tin say, "Came as poor to the poor "—he said it last Christmas Day.

And then he lets his glebe for allotments. A doose of a rent Gets for it, too. But then yer money is better spent There, nor in beer,—a precious. And then there's Club and Coals, Flannul, an' blankets, all o' the beat, an' Christmas doles.

So if the Church is for us, we'll all on us go for the Church : I aint a goin' for nothin' to leave th' ould thing in the lurch. And when it comes to votin', if Jim he cries instead, "Down wi' the Church and Parsons !" my golly, I'll punch 'is 'ead.

Eh, Sir, what? "I'm stoopid." Well, preps I am, can't say. None does nothin for nowt ; yer gemmen must have yer pay : Sartain share yer must. But then a vote, d'ye see, "'S a dooty I ewe's to all," as yerself yer said it to me.

Well, yer can come again. There's plenty o' time Iwixt now An' general next election. Yer'll think about that cow ? Farmers send milk to Lannon. 0' course they do, it pays ; So I'll go for a cow and a haker o' land to graze.