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Tixall Poetry.
Then bring my bath, and strow my bed,
As each kind night returnes;
He change my mistris till I'm dead,
And fate change me to wormes.
As each kind night returnes;
He change my mistris till I'm dead,
And fate change me to wormes.
XXIX.
The Witches Song.
Lets have a dance upon this heath,
We gaine more life by Duncans death.
Sometimes like brinded cats we shew,
Having no musicke but our mew;
While we dance in some old mill,
About the hopper stone, or wheele,
To some old saier bardy shrine,
Whilst the mill clacke it doth keepe time.
We gaine more life by Duncans death.
Sometimes like brinded cats we shew,
Having no musicke but our mew;
While we dance in some old mill,
About the hopper stone, or wheele,
To some old saier bardy shrine,
Whilst the mill clacke it doth keepe time.
Sometimes about a hollow tree,
Around, around, around dance we;
Around, around, around dance we;
