D'ye see that 'ere hoss there?" said a Liskeard farmer to a West-Country miner.
"What ov it?" asked the miner.
"Well, that 'ere hoss he'n been ridden to death a'most by the pigsies again."
"Pigsies!" said the miner; "thee don't b'leve in they, do 'ee?"
"Ees I do; but I specks you're a West-Country bucca, ain't 'ee? If you'd a had yourn hosses wrode to death every nite, you'd tell another tayl, I reckon. But as sure as I 'se living the pigsies do ride on 'em whenever they've a mind to."
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