Nowhere can the bustling activity of haymaking be seen to more advantage than in Cowslip Country, which extends right through Huntingdonshire into East Anglia. It was not, however, near St. Ives, but in another somewhat distant part of Cowslip Country that the gypsies depicted in ‘The Coming of Love’ took an active part in haymaking. But alas! in these times of mechanical haymaking the lover of local customs can no longer hope to see such a picture as that painted in the now famous gypsy haymaking song which Mr. Watts-Dunton puts into the mouth of Rhona Boswell. Moreover, the prosperous gryengroes depicted by Borrow and by the author of ‘The Coming of Love’ have now entirely vanished from the scene. The present generation knows them not. But it is impossible for the student of Mr. Watts-Dunton’s poetry to ramble along any part of Cowslip Country, with the fragrance of newly-made hay in his nostrils, without recalling this chant, which I have the kind permission of the editor of the ‘Saturday Review’ (April 19, 1902) to quote:— Make the kas while the kem says, ‘Make it!’ {34} Shinin’ there on meadow an’ grove, Sayin, ‘You Romany chies, you take it, Toss it, tumble it, cock it, rake it, Singin’ the ghyllie the while you shake it To lennor and love!’ Hark, the sharpenin’ scythes that tingle! See they come, the farmin’ ryes! ‘Leave the dell,’ they say, ‘an’ pingle! Never a gorgie, married or single, Can toss the kas in dell or dingle Like Romany chies.’ Make the kas while the kem says ‘Make it!’ Bees are a-buzzin’ in chaw an’ clover Stealin’ the honey from sperrits o’ morn, Shoshus leap in puv an’ cover, Doves are a-cooin’ like lover to lover, Larks are awake an’ a-warblin’ over Their kairs in the corn. Make the kas while the kem says ‘Make it!’ Smell the kas on the baval blowin’! What is that the gorgies say? Never a garden rose a-glowin’, Never a meadow flower a-growin’, Can match the smell from a Rington mowin’ Of new made hay. All along the river reaches ‘Cheep, cheep, chee!’—from osier an’ sedge; ‘Cuckoo, cuckoo!’ rings from the beeches; Every chirikel’s song beseeches Ryes to larn what lennor teaches From copse an’ hedge. Make the kas while the kem says ‘Make it!’ Lennor sets ’em singin’ an’ pairin’, Chirikels all in tree an’ grass, Farmers say, ‘Them gals are darin’, Sometimes dukkerin’, sometimes snarin’; But see their forks at a quick kas-kairin’,’ Toss the kas! Make the kas while the kem says, ‘Make it!’ Shinin’ there on meadow an’ grove, Sayin’, ‘You Romany chies, you take it, Toss it, tumble it, cock it, rake it, Singin’ the ghyllie the while you shake it To lennor and love!’