« EelmineJätka »
WOMEN ben full of ragerie,
To filche the gray ducke fro the lake.
But, as he glozeth with speeches soote,
Fore-piece and buttons all-to-brest,
"Then trust on mon, whose yerde can talke."
IN ev'ry town, where Thamis rolls his tyde,
The short thick sob, loud scream, and shriller squall:
How can ye, mothers, vex your children so?
Some play, some eat, some cack against the wall,
And as they crouchen low, for bread and butter call.
And on the broken pavement, here and there,
hood I ween.