3730And whilst he hawkèd, and Bellama laugh'd,
The trumping hostess stole a thumping draught.
'Are you so dainty-toothèd,' quoth mine host,
'That country victuals will not down with you?
You shall be fed with custards, pies, and roast.
Cannot your chops a boneless pudding chew?
I trow far worser is than this your fare,
Unless you kitchen-sculls and lick-spits are.'
'Ma' gep ma' faw,' the crabbèd hostess said,
'Let 'em e'en fast if they'll not eat their soul.