BALLAD. (Excuse me, pray ye do, dear neighbour)

Excuse me, pray ye do, dear neighbour, But Rose, you know, and I, Have oft partook one sport or labour, While you have pleas'd stood by.

And since, from little children playing, You've kindly call'd me son, I thought, to Rose, I might be saying " Good-day," and no harm done.

When you and father gravely counted, One morning in the barn, To how much in a day it mounted, That both of us could earn,

Since then you down the law were laying, And calling me your son, I thought to Rose I might be saying " Good day," and no harm done.