I hide my eyes in my loverís breast 
and he bids me tell him what I see. 

I say, There are women and girls at work, 
turning little children with forks and rakes! 

And men heap them up into little cocks 
while a farmer is helping to load the wain. 

The wain is driven out of the gate, 
but women are screaming and standing in water 

as the wheel runs over into the ditch 
and the load topples sideways into the lane! 

O, my lover, laugh not so! 
Catching straws is no laughing matter. 

(Your red plough-handle is tracked by a snail 
as it lies by my side in the ditch.)