( 4 )
The Knight bad only on his shirt,
so Jack lash'd him with great fury;
In vain he loud for mercy beg'd,
but Jack was judge and jury;
At length his cries the servants heard,
came down into the place, Sir,
Befoul'd upon the ground he lay,
all in a woeful case, Sir.
They clean'd and brought him out of fits,
up stairs did him convey straight;
He vow'd the devil had done this trick,
and was sure for him did there wait.
May this a warning be to such Knights,
who bolt and bar the small beer;
For had not Sir Charles been so mean,
he Belzebub had need not fear.
HARVEST HOME.
COME Roger, come Nell,
come Simkin, come Bell;
Each lad, with his lass, hither come,
With singing and dancing,
In pleasures advancing,
To celebrate harvest home,
For Ceres bids play,
And keep holiday,
To celebrate harvest home, harvest home,
To celebrate harvest home.
Our labours are o'er,
Our barns in full store,
