We water myllers be nothynge in regarde.
No water have we to grynde at any stynt,
The wynde is so stronge the rayne cannot fall,
Whyche kepeth our myldams as drye as a flynt.
We are undone, we grynde nothynge at all, 450
The greter is the pyte, as thynketh me.
For what avayleth to eche man his corne,
Tyll it be grounde by such men as we be?
There is the loss, yf we be forborne.[147]
For, touchynge our-selfes, we are but drudgys, 455