“Your fruits are ripe but twice a year,
As you yourself do say;
But such as I present you here,
Our land brings twice a day.”
The Spaniard in a passion flew,
And his rapier took in hand;
The Cheshire man kicked up his heels,
Saying: “Thou art at my command.”
So never let a Spaniard boast
While Cheshire men abound,
Lest they should teach him, to his cost,
To dance a Cheshire round.
THREE WELCH HUNTERS
There were three jovial Welchmen,
As I’ve heard them say,
And they would go a-hunting
Upon St David’s day.
All the day they hunted,
And nothing could they find,
But a ship a-sailing,
A-sailing with the wind.
One said it was a ship,
The other said, nay;
The third said it was a house,
And the chimney blown away.
And all the night they hunted,
And nothing could they find,
But the moon a-gliding,
A-gliding with the wind.
One said it was the moon
The other said, nay;
The third said it was a cheese,
And half o’t cut away.
LAMENT OF A MOTHER, WHOSE
CHILD WAS STOLEN BY FAIRIES