The poems of Dr. Yalden :: :: University of Virginia Library

There dwelt a Farmer in the west,
As we're in story told;
Whose herds were large and flocks the best
That ever lin'd a fold.

Arm'd with a staff, his russet coat,
And Towser by his side,
Early and late he tun'd his throat
And every wolf defy'd.

Lov'd Towser was his heart's delight,
In cringe and fawning skill'd,
Intrusted with the flocks by night,
And guardian of the field.

“Towser, quoth he, I'm for a fair;
Be regent in my room:
Pray of my tender flocks take care,
And keep all safe at home.

I know thee watchful, just, and brave,
Right worthy such a place:
No wily fox shall thee deceive,
Nor wolf dare show his face.”

But ne'er did wolves a fold infest,
At regent Towser's rate:
He din'd and supp'd upon the best,
And frequent breakfasts ate.

The Farmer oft receiv'd advice,
And laugh'd at the report:
But coming on him by surprize,
Just found him at the sport.

“Ingrateful beast, quoth he, what means
That bloody mouth and paws?
I know the base, the treacherous stains,
Thy breach of trust and laws.

The fruits of my past love I see:
Roger, the halter bring;
E'en truss him on that pippin tree,
And let friend Towser swing.

I'll spare the famish'd wolf and fox,
That ne'er my bounty knew:
But, as the guardian of my flocks,
This neckcloth is your due.”

When ministers their prince abuse,
And on the subjects prey:
With ancient monarchs 'twas in use,
To send them Towser's way.