D' ye think I don't know the taste of sweat?
Many's the gallon I've drunk of it--ay, in the midwinter, toiling like a slave.

All through, what has my life been?
Bend, bend, bend my old creaking back till it would ache like breaking; wade about in the foul mire, never a dry stitch; empty belly, sore hands, hat off to my Lord Redface; kicks and ha'pence; and now, here, at the hind end, when I'm worn to my poor bones, a kick and done with it.' He walked a little while in silence, and then, extending his hand, 'Now you, Nance Holdaway,' says he, 'you come of my blood, and you're a good girl.

When that man was a boy, I used to carry his gun for him.

I carried the gun all day on my two feet, and many a stitch I had, and chewed a bullet for.

He rode upon a horse, with feathers in his hat; but it was him that had the shots and took the game home.