Alonge the bridge, alonge the road,
A jolly crewe, I wotte;'—
And here the tailore smotte his breaste,
He smelte the cabbage potte!
The waggonere in talking anent Boreas, maketh bad orthographye.
'The night was darke, like Noe's arke,
Oure waggone moved alonge;
The hail pour'd faste, loude roared the blaste,
Yet stille we moved alonge;
And sung in chorus, "Cease, loud Borus,"