Five hundred pounds more will make me to drink.
In vain that hue and cry it was made,
They found none of them though the country was laid,
But this grieved the Cripple night and day,
That he so unluckily missed of his play.
Nine hundred pounds this Cripple had got
By begging and thieving, so good was his lot;
A thousand pound he would make it, he said,
And then he would give over his trade.
But as he striv’d his mind to fulfil,