And how she lev’d, and how she died,
And how his labour aw was lost.
In the winter-time she took a hoast,
And aw whilk while she was noe weell;
But yet her stomach ne’er was lost,
Although she never had her heal.
Now for her feud she went so yare,
An the fiend had been a truss of hey,
She wad a swallowed him and mickle mare,
Bequeen the night but an the dey.