How oft the black Jack to his lips doth go.
Dame Margery sits in her own still room,
A matron sage is she;
From thence oft at Curfew is wafted a fume
She says it is “Rosemarie:”
She says it is “Rosemarie:”
But there’s a small cupboard behind the back stair,
And the maids say they often see Margery there.
Now Margery says that she grows very old,
“And must take a something to keep out the cold!”