Speed the Plough! Ah, that's all mighty fine,

And I like the old saying's suggestion;

But—wi' a small crock such as mine,

The speed may be matter o' question.

I've set my hand to 'un, o' course,

And munna look back, there's no doubt o' it:

Yet I wish I'd a handier horse

For the job, or that I were well out o' it!

Stiff clay on a slaantin' hill-side,

Would tax a strong team. Steady, steady!

The little 'un goes a bit wide,

And seems to be shirkin' already.

To keep a straight furrow this go

Will strain the old ploughman's slack muscle;

And yet my new measters, I know,

Will expect I to keep on the bustle.

Stiff job for a little 'un? Yes!

If he doesn't pull straight there'll be bother,

Must make the best of 'un I guess,

This time, for I sha'an't get no other.

Gee up! I shall have a good try,

On that they may bet their last dollar.

It's do, poor old crook, now, or die!

But—I must keep 'un oop to the collar!