Larst May I was a-walkin' in the lanes o' Devon, an' down the 'ill comes a motor-car tearin' an' scorchin' for all it was worth, an' bang went somethin' at the bottom o' the thing, an' it stops suddint.

Out jumps a French chauffy, parlyvooin' to hisself, an' out jumps the man what owns it an' takes off his goggles.

'This is Devonshire, my man ?' sez 'e to me.

'It is,' I sez to 'im.

An' then the cuckoo started callin' away over the trees.