3. The thyrde Chapter treateth of Irland. And
of the naturall disposicion of an Irishe
man, & of theyr money and speche.
I am an Iryshe man, in Irland I was borne;
I loue to weare a saffron shert, all though it be to-torne.
My anger and my hastynes doth hurt me full sore;
I cannot leaue it, it creaseth more and more;
And although I be poore, I haue an angry hart.
I can kepe a Hobby, a gardyn, and a cart;
I can make good mantyls, and good Irysh fryce;
I can make aqua vite, and good square dyce.
Pediculus other whyle do byte me by the backe,
Wherfore dyvers times I make theyr bones cracke.
I do loue to eate my meate, syttyng vpon the ground,
And do lye in oten strawe, slepyng full sound.
I care not for ryches, but for meate and drynke;
And dyuers tymes I wake, whan other men do wynke.
I do vse no potte to seeth my meate in,
Wherfore I do boyle it in a bestes skyn;
Than after my meate, the brothe I do drynk vp,
I care not for my masȝer, neyther cruse nor cup.
I am not new fangled, nor neuer wyll be;
I do lyue in pouerty, in myne owne countre.
Thus endeth the maner and speche of Irland.
