So then they tooke him up againe, according to his kind, And packt him up in severall stackes to wither with the wind.
And with a pitchforke that was sharpe, they rent him to the heart; And like a thiefe for treason vile, they bound him in a cart.
And tending him with weapons strong, unto the towne they hie, And straight they mowed him in a mow, and there they let him lie.
Then he lay groning by the wals, till all his wounds were sore, At length they tooke him up againe, and cast him on the floore.
They hyrèd two with holly clubs, to beat on him at once, They thwackèd so on Barly-corne that flesh fell from his bones.
And then they tooke him up againe, to fulfill women’s minde, They dusted and they sifted him, till he was almost blind.
And then they knit him in a sacke, which grievèd him full sore, They steep’d him in a Fat, God-wot, for three days space and more. {299}
Then they took him up againe, and laid him for to drie, They cast him on a chamber floore, and swore that he should die.
They rubbèd him and stirrèd him, and still they did him turne The malt-man swore that he should die, his body he would burne.
They spightfully tooke him up againe and threw him on a Kill; So dried him there with fire hot, and thus they wrought their will.