As thro’ some half-blind alleys passed,
A man who bore thro’ muddy way—
A Tray with a most strange display,
“Young lambs to sell.”
His face was seamed, his bleary eye,
Told tales of tankards, oft drained dry;
The words were partly said and sung
Which fell from his outlandish tongue—
“Young Lambs to sell.”
The Landlord cried, you’d better stay;