Iii

Then the High-toby gloque drew his cutlass so fine; Says he to the farmer, "you or I for the shine!" And to it they went both, like two Grecians of old, Cutting, slashing, up and down, and all for the gold! 'Twas cut for cut while it did last, Thrashing, licking, hard and fast, Hard milling for the gold. Derry down.