11
A kid, instead of baked rae,
Jacob himself was tickled so,
He went to Lot where he was lying,
And to the gate he pray'd him to go,
To staunch the carling of her crying.
Lot says fair dame, make less ado,
And come again another day.
Old harlot carle and drunkard too,
Thou with thine own two daughters lay,
Of thine untimely seed I say,
Proceeded never good but ill.
Poor Lot, for shame then stole away,
And left the wife to knock her fill.
Meek Moses then went down at last,
To pacify the carling then;
Now, dame, said he, knock not so fast,
Your knocking will not let you beu.
Good Sir, said she I am aghast,
When that I look you in the faco:
If that your law till now did last,
Then surely I had ne'er got grace:
But, Moses, Sir, now by your leave,
Although in heaven thou be posses
For all you saw, did not believe.
But you in Horeb there transgres
Wherefore by all it is confest,
You got but once the land to see,
