Where we keep such a coyl, and such a quarter,
And all to make the tedious nights seem shorter.
Then down we lie, until our bones do ake,
First one side, then the other weary make.
When frost did pinch us, then we shake and shiver,
And full as bad we were in stormy weather.
A boisterous blast, when men with sleep were dead,
Would bring their houses down upon their head.
Thus in extremity we often lay,
Longing to see the dawning of the day,