"'Now, thanks, my loving Uncle,' that Lady gay replied; 'Gramercy for thy benison!'—then 'Out, alas!' she sighed; 'My father dear he is not near; he seeks the Spanish Main; He prays thee give me shelter here till he return again!'—
"'Now, welcome! welcome! dearest Niece; come lay thy mantle by!' The Canon kissed her ruby lip—he had a merry eye,— But Nelly Cook askew did look,—it came into her mind They were a little less than 'kin,' and rather more than 'kind.'
"Three weeks are gone and over—full three weeks and a day, Yet still within the Canon's house doth dwell that Lady gay; On capons fine they daily dine, rich cates and sauces rare, And they quaff good store of Bourdeaux wine,—so dainty is their fare.
"And fine upon the virginals is that gay Lady's touch, And sweet her voice unto the lute, you'll scarce hear any such; But is it 'O Sanctissima!' she sings in dulcet tone? Or 'Angels ever bright and fair?'—Ah, no!—it's 'Bobbing Joan!'
"The Canon's house is lofty, and spacious to the view; The Canon's cell is ordered well—yet Nelly looks askew; The Lady's bower is in the tower,—yet Nelly shakes her head— She hides the poker and the tongs in that gay Lady's bed?
"Six weeks were gone and over—full six weeks and a day, Yet in that bed the poker and the tongs unheeded lay! From which, I fear, it's pretty clear that Lady rest had none; Or, if she slept in any bed—it was not in her own.
"But where that Lady pass'd her nights, I may not well divine, Perhaps in pious oraisons at good St Thomas' Shrine, And for her father far away breathed tender vows and true— It may be so—I cannot say—but Nelly look'd askew.