Windsor the place; the day was Holy roode;
Saint George my muse: for be it understood,
For all Saint George more early in the yeare
Broke fast and eat a bitt, hee dined here:
And though in Aprill in redd inke he shine,
Know twas September made him redd with wine.
To this good sport rod I, as being allow’d
To see the king, and cry him in the crowd;
And at all solemne meetings have the grace
To thrust, and to be trodde on, by my place.