One of these young gentlemen gave me what he said were the words they were singing, afterwards, when I came to know him (as you will hear in the next chapter); and it seems he had found out that I was collecting all I could about the Horse. But I don’t quite know whether he wasn’t cutting his jokes upon me, for he is “amazin’ found of fun,” as Joe said; and for my part, I could never quite tell, when I was with him, whether he was in jest or earnest. However, here are the words he gave me:-- BALLAD OF THE SCOURING OF THE WHITE HORSE. I. The owld White Harse wants zettin to rights And the Squire hev promised good cheer, Zo we’ll gee un a scrape to kip un in zhape, And a’ll last for many a year. II. A was made a lang lang time ago Wi a good dale o’ labour and pains, By King Alferd the Great when he spwiled their consate And caddled,[21] thay wosbirds[22] the Danes. III. The Bleawin Stwun in days gone by Wur King Alfred’s bugle harn, And the tharnin tree you med plainly zee As is called King Alferd’s tharn. IV. There’ll be backsword play, and climmin the powl, And a race for a peg, and a cheese, And us thenks as hisn’s a dummell[23] zowl As dwont care for zich spwoorts as theze. When we had done looking at the Horse, some went one way and some another, and Joe and I down the hill to the Swan Inn, where we got the trap and started away for Elm Close. “Why, Dick, how did you manage to pick up the old gentleman who was treating you at dinner?” said Joe; “I suppose he’s one of your London folk.” “’Twas he who picked me up,” said I, “for I never set eyes on him before. But I can tell you he is a very learned party, and very kind too. He told me all about the battle of Ashdown, and ever so many more old stories. I should think he must have been two hours and more telling them.” “Sooner you than I,” said Joe. “Well, I thought I knew his face. He must be the old gent as was poking about our parish last fall, and sort of walking the bounds. Though there isn’t any call for that, I’m sure, for we walk the bounds ourselves every year. The men as he hired told me he was looking after some old stone, the play stone I think he called it, and would have it he knew more about the names of the fields, and why they were called so, than they as had lived there all their lives. However, he stood ’em something handsome for their trouble. I expect he isn’t quite right up here,” said he, touching his forehead and looking at me. “Just as right as you,” said I, “and I’ve no doubt he does know more about your parish than all of you put together. I think he must be some great antiquary.” “Ah! that’s what the Squire said when I told him. A great angular Saxon scholar he called him.” “Anglo-Saxon, Joe,” said I, “not angular.”