Which when I perceived, what excuse did I make?
I came in the crossway on the nearside the Forlake,
Hard by Hodge’s half acre, at Gaffer Miller’s stile,
The next way round about, by the space of a mile.
And at Simkin’s side-ridge my lord stood talking,
And angerly to me quoth he, Where hast thou been walking?
Without any staggering, I had ready my lie:
Out at bridge-meadow and at Benol’s lease (quoth I).
Your fatlings are feeding well, sir, the gods be praised,
A goodly loume of beef on them is already raised.