Now prithee sing thyself out of the Well,
fa, la, &c.”
The Maid at last helps him out, and bids him be gone; but when he asks her to give him back the angel,—
“Good Sir, (said she) there’s no such matter,
I’ll make you pay for fouling my Water;
fa, la, &c.
The Fryer went along the Street,
fa, la, &c.
Drapping wet, like a new-wash’d Sheep,