When a friend calls me from the road and slows his horse to a Meaning walk, I don't stand still and look around.
On the hills I haven't hoed, and shout from where I am, What is it?
No, not as there is time to talk.
I ****** my *** in the mellow ground,
Blade end up and five feet tall, and plod: I go up to the stone wall for A friendly talk.