24 (K-D 12)
I move on my feet, I break up the ground,
the green meadows, as long as I live.
If life leaves me I then bind fast
the swarthy Welsh, and sometimes better men.
Sometimes I give drink to a strong man
from out of my bosom. Sometimes the stately dame
treads me underfoot. Sometimes the Welsh girl,
dark-haired slave brought from afar,
stupid and drunk, on dark nights
lifts me and presses me, soaks me in water,
warms me sometimes kindly by the fire,
her wanton hands thrust in my bosom;
turning often sweeps through the dark.
Say what my name is who living ravage
the land, and dead am of service to men.
Leather; first on the living ox, then made into thongs, wine bottles, and shoes, which are cleaned by the Welsh slave. But “sweeps” in l. 13 is Chaucer’s word swive and probably carries a salacious innuendo.
25 (K-D 72)
[The first few lines are defective.]
I was little... ...my sister fed me...
Often I tugged at four dear brothers,
each one gave me daily to drink,
through a hole freely. I throve happily
until I was older and left all that
to the swarthy herdsman. I traveled farther
to the Welsh marches, traversed the moors,
bound under beam. I had a ring on my neck,
