When the neck of woods has sunk in dark
& mere Sweet Fanny Adams is to lark
O’ seer, drive on round the clock
The morn is desperate of your spark;

When the land sings so arid
& cloud-sky timid to get married
O’ uphiller, flood oneself in sweat
Ere life here strains to bleed;

When the farm is full of crops of husks
& lives are all after the musk
O’ yeoman, hoe down the rocky crust
Ere heat of hunger bakes all a rusk;

Ere dusk of life nudges to greet
& you miss taste of night: honey-sweet
O’ gentleman, pause like ‘ween heartbeats
See, your love is impatient to meet!

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