Whan she lacketh cloutes, without any fayle
She wyped her disshes wyth her dogges tayle.
And they had yssue Sym Sadle-gander,
That for a wyfe in all the worlde did wander,
Tyll at the last, in the wynters nyght,
By Temmes he sayled, aryved by ryght
Amonge the nunnes of the grene cote.
He wente to lande out of his prety bote,
And wedde there one that was comen anewe:
He thought her stable, and fayfthfull, and trewe.