Grained like a sacke,
With a croked backe. . . .
She breweth noppy ale,
And maketh therof port sale
To travellars, to tynkers,
To sweters, to swynkers,
And all good ale drinkers.”
Passers-by and dwellers in the neighbourhood flock to her house:
“Some go streyght thyder,
Be it slaty or slyder;