Bring us in no bacon, for that is passing fat, But bring us in good ale, and gife us enought of that; Bring us in no Nor bring us in Bring us in no mutton, for that is often lene, no tripes, for they be seldom clene, egges, for there are many schelles, But bring us in good ale, and gife us nothing elles; Bring us in no butter, for therein are many hores, 1 Nor bring us in no pigges flesch, for that will make us bores, But bring us in good ale! Bring us in no podinges, for therein is all Godes good,2 Bring us in no capons flesch, for that is ofté dere, Nor bring us in no dokes 3 flesch, for they slober in the O'er ocean's heaving waves. Our oar-strokes then we pulled Across the level of the main, Throwing the sea's harvest up Like honey, the sea-soil. The fort we reached was beautiful, Fresh butter was the bridge in front, Stately, pleasantly it sat, A compact house and strong. The door of it was hung beef, Behind it was a well of wine, Each full pool to the taste. Malt in smooth wavy sea Over a lard-spring's brink Flowed through the floor. . ... A row of fragrant apple-trees, A forest tall of real leeks, Of onions and of carrots, stood Within, a household generous, Seven bead-strings and necklets seven Round each man's neck. The Chief in cloak of beefy fat Below the lofty cauldron's spit His fleshfork on his back. 74 STOOL BALL Now milkmaids' pails are deckt with flowers, Wherewith they harmless pastime make. . . . 75 MILKING PAILS MARY'S gone a-milking, A rea, a ria, a roses, Mary's gone a-milking, Gentle sweet mother o' mine. Take your pails and go after her, Take your pails and go after her, Buy me a pair of new milking pails, Buy me a pair of new milking pails, Where's the money to come from, A rea, a ria, a roses, Where's the money to come from, Gentle sweet daughter o' mine? Sell my father's feather bed, A rea, a ria, a roses, What's your father to sleep on, What's your father to sleep on, Put him in the truckle bed, A rea, a ria, a roses, Gentle sweet mother o' mine. What are the children to sleep on, A rea, a ria, a roses, What are the children to sleep on, Gentle sweet daughter o' mine? Put them in the pig-sty, A rea, a ria, a roses, Put them in the pig-sty, Gentle sweet mother o' mine. What are the pigs to lie in, A rea, a ria, a roses, What are the pigs to lie in, Gentle sweet daughter o' mine? Put them in the washing-tubs, A rea, a ria, a roses, Put them in the washing-tubs, Gentle sweet mother o' mine. What am I to wash in, A rea, a ria, a roses, What am I to wash in, Gentle sweet daughter o' mine? Wash in the thimble, A rea, a ria, a roses, Wash in the thimble, Gentle sweet mother o' mine. Thimble won't hold your father's shirt, A rea, a ria, a roses, Thimble won't hold your father's shirt, Gentle sweet daughter o' mine. Wash in the river, A rea, a ria, a roses, Wash in the river, Gentle sweet mother o' mine. Suppose the clothes should blow away, A rea, a ria, a roses, Suppose the clothes should blow away, Gentle sweet daughter o' mine? Set a man to watch them, A rea, a ria, a roses, Set a man to watch them, Gentle sweet mother o' mine. Suppose the man should go to sleep, Suppose the man should go to sleep, Take a boat and go after them, A rea, a ria, a roses, Take a boat and go after them, |