SWARTE smekyd smethes smatyred wyth smoke Dryve me to deth wyth den of here dyntes. Such noys on nyghtes ne herd men never: What navene cry and clateryng of knockes! The cammede kongons cryen after 'col, col!' And blowen here bellewes, that al here brayn breasts: 'Huf, puf!' saith that on; 'haf, paf!' that other. Thei spitten and spraulyn and spellyn many spelles; Thei graven and gnacchen, thei groanys togydyr, And holden hem hote wyth here hard hamers. Of a bole-hyde ben here barm-fellys; Here shankes ben shakeled for the fere flunders; Heavy hamerys thei han, that hard ben handled, Stark strokes thei stryken on a stelyd stokke: Lus, bus! las, das! rowtyn be rowe. Swech doleful a dreme the devyl it todryve! The mayster longith a litel, and lascheth a lesse, Twineth hem tweyn, and toucheth a treble: Tik tak! hic hac! tiket taket! tyk, tak! Lus bus, las das! such lyfe they ledyn Alle clothemerys: Cryst hem gyve sorwe! May no man for brenwaterys on night han hys rest! |