I soon found Joe amongst a group of farmers and one or two young gentlemen, some on horseback and some on foot, standing round the Squire. They were talking over the arrangements before going home; and I stood a little way off, so as not to interrupt them or to seem to be pushing myself into their company.
“Now I think we have done all we can to-day,” said the Squire, gathering up his reins; “but some of us must be up early to-morrow to get the lists made, and settle every thing about the games.”
“Yes, that will do capitally. Now I shall just go and see how they have done the Horse.”
So he rode out of the camp, and we all followed over the brow of the hill till we came to a good point for seeing the figure, which looked as bright and clean as a new sixpence.
“I think he’ll do very well,” said the Squire.
“Listen to the scourers,” said one of the young gentlemen.
They had finished their work, and were sitting in a group round a large can of beer which the Squire had sent down to them; and one of them was singing a rumbling sort of ditty, with a tol-de-rol chorus, in which the rest joined lazily.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.