When a friend calls to me from the road

And slows his horse to a meaning walk

I don’t stand still and look around

On all the hills I haven’t hoed

And shout from where I am What is it?

No not as there is a time to talk.

I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground

Blade-end up and five feet tall

And plod: I go up to the stone wall

For a friendly visit.