Soa ta Tommy he goas, an' the question he pops: "Betwin thy horse and mine, prithee, Tommy, what swops? What wilt gi' me ta boot? for mine's t' better horse still?" "Nout," says Tommy, "I'll swop ivven hands, an' ye will!" Abey preached a lang time about summat ta boot, Insistin' that his war the liveliest brute; But Tommy stuck fast where he first had begun, Till Abey shook hands, and sed, "Well, Tommy, done!" "O! Tommy," sed Abey, "I'ze sorry for thee, I thowt thou'd a hadden mair white i' thy ee; Good luck's wi' thy bargin, for my horse is deead." "Hey!" says Tommy, "my lad, soa is min, an' it's fleead!" Soa Tommy got t' better of t' bargin, a vast, An' cam' off wi' a Yorkshireman's triumph at last; For thof 'twixt deead horses there's not mitch ta choose, Yet Tommy war richer by t' hide an' fower shooes.[172] FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 170: The descendants of Tommy Towers were resident at Clapham till within a very recent period, and used to take great pleasure in relating the adventure of their progenitor. The village of Clapham is in the West Riding of Yorkshire, on the high road between Skipton and Kendal.] [Footnote 171: Abey Muggins is thought to be a _sobriquet_ for a then Clapham innkeeper.] [Footnote 172: This song obtained great popularity a few years ago from the admirable singing of Emery, and is still a favourite. Mr. Hailstone's copy concludes each verse with "Derry down, &c."] BILL BROWN, THE POACHER. In seventeen hundred and sixty-nine As plainly doth appear then, A bloody scene was felt most keen Till death it did draw near then; Of poor Bill Brown, of Brightside Town, A lad of well known fame then, Who took delight, both day and night, To trace the timid hare then. With wires strong they march'd along, Unto brave Thriberg town then, With nut-brown ale that ne'er did fail, And many a health went round then; Bright luna bright did shine that night, To the woods they did repair then, True as the sun their dogs did run, To trace the lofty hare then. A lofty breeze amongst the trees, With shining he came on them, Like Cain he stood seeking for blood, With his bayonet and his gun then; Then he did charge with shot quite large, George Miller did him spy then; This rogue's intent was fully bent, One of us poor lads should die then. His cruel hand he did command That instant for to fire then, And so with strife took poor Brown's life, Which once he thought entire then. His blood aloud for vengeance cried, The keeper he came on then, Like cruel Cain up to him came, And so renew'd his wounds then.