She upped and she oped it, and there sure enough was the little old thing sitting on the ledge.
“Where’s the flax?” says he.
“Here it be,” says she. And she gave it to him.
Well, come the evening a knocking came again to the window. She upped and she oped it, and there was the little old thing with five skeins of flax on his arm.
“Here it be,” says he, and he gave it to her.
“Now, what’s my name?” says he.
“What, is that Bill?” says she.
“Noo, that ain’t,” says he, and he twirled his tail.
“Is that Ned?” says she.
“Noo, that ain’t,” says he, and he twirled his tail.