And with that she began nursing her child again, singing a sort of lullaby to it as she did so, and giving it a violent shake at the end of every line: "Speak roughly to your little boy, And beat him when he sneezes;...
I have a horse, a ryghte good horse, Ne doe Y envye those Who scoure ye playne yn headye course Tyll soddayne on theyre nose They lyghte wyth unexpected force Yt ys, a horse of clothes. ...
"You are old, father William," the young man said, "And your hair has become very white; And yet you incessantly stand on your head, Do you think, at your age, it is right? ...