On Chats to trine,[194] by Rum-Coves Dine,[195]
For his long Lib at last.[196]
Bing out bien morts, and toure and toure,
Bing out of the Romevile fine;[197]
Now toure the cove that cly’d your duds,
Upon the chats to trine.
As this song is so old some of the expressions are obsolete, and their explanations are somewhat conjectural. The first verse translated reads as follows:—
Go out, good girls, and look and see,
Go out, good girls, and see;
For all your clothes are carried away,