1.
Part First.
It is an auncient Waggonere,
An auncient waggonere stoppeth ane tailore going to a wedding, whereat he hath been appointed to be best manne, and to take a hand in the casting of the slippere.
And hee stoppeth one of nine:—
“Now wherefore dost thou grip me soe
With that horny fist of thine?”
“The bridegroom's doors are opened wide,
The waggonere in mood for chat, and admits of no excuse.
And thither I must walke;
Soe, by youre leave, I must be gone,
I have noe time for talke!”
Hee holds him with his horny fist—
The tailore seized with the ague.
“There was a wain,” quothe hee,
“Hold offe thou raggamouffine tykke,”—
Eftsoones his fist dropped hee.
Hee satte him downe upon a stone,
He listeneth like a three years and a half child.
With ruefulle looks of feare;
And thus began this tippyse manne,
The red nosed waggonere.
“The waine is fulle, the horses pulle,
The appetite of the tailore whetted by the smell of cabbage.
Merrilye did we trotte
Alonge the bridge, alonge the road,
A jolly crewe I wotte;”—
And here the tailore smotte his breaste,
He smelte the cabbage potte!
“The nighte was darke, like Noe's arke,
The waggonere, in talking anent Boreas, maketh bad orthographye.
Oure waggone moved alonge;
The hail pour'd faste, loude roared the blaste,
Yet stille we moved alonge;
And sung in chorus, ‘Cease loud Borus,’
A very charminge songe.
“‘Bravoe, bravissimoe,’ I cried,
Their mirthe interrupted.
The sounde was quite elatinge;
But, in a trice, upon the ice,
We hearde the horses skaitinge.
“The ice was here, the ice was there,
And the passengers exercise themselves in the pleasant art of swimminge, as doeth also their prog, to witte, great store of colde roasted beef; item, ane beefstake pye; item, viii choppines of usquebaugh.
It was a dismale mattere,
To see the cargoe, one by one,
Flounderinge in the wattere!
“With rout and roare, we reached the shore,
And never a soul did sinke;
But in the rivere, gone for evere,
Swum our meate and drinke.
The waggonere hailethe ane goose. with ane novel salutatione.
“At lengthe we spied a goode grey goose,
Thorough the snow it came;
And with the butte ende of my whippe,
I hailed it in Goddhis name.
“It staggered as it had been drunke,
So dexterous was it hitte;
Of brokene boughs we made a fire,
Thomme Loncheone roasted itte.”—
The tailore impatient to be gone, but is forcibly persuaded to remain.
“Be done, thou tipsye waggonere,
“To the feaste I must awaye.”—
The waggonere seized him bye the coatte,
And forced him there to staye,
Begginge, in gentlemanlie style,
Butte halfe ane hour's delaye.
