3990Thus had the scene been changed, had not the sire
Suppressed her babblings with a check and grin.
The monks, well satisfied, gang to the fire
To taste the juice of Kate's old kilderkin.
The tinker and mine host would always cry,
'Fill, hostess, fill! the monks are still a-dry.'
Canzone.
Drink full ones, tinker, methinks the monks are dry,
Drink healths, mine host, the monks do fear a thirst.
Are the monks thirsty? the monks will quickly try