Gave thou not him for venison,
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,