There was a rabbit squattin' outside 'pon his father's tombstone.

Squire crep' up an' clapped his Sunday hat 'pon top of en.

Took en into church.
One o' the curate chaps was preachin'-- a timorous little fellah.
By-'n'-by Squire slips out his rabbit.

'Wirroo, boys! Coorse en, coorse en--we'll have en for dinner!' Aw, a pretty dido! The curate fellah ran out to door an' the rabbit after en.

Folks did say the rabbit was the old Squire's soul, an' that he'd turned black inside the young Squire's hat.