He swore by the sticks[2] in hell—
By the yelding that crackles to mak the low[3],
That warms his namsack[4] weel.
"He leaped on his beast, and he rode with heaste,
To mak his black oath good;
'Twas the Lord's Day, and the folk did pray
And the priest in cancel stood.
"The door was wide, and in does he ride,
In his clanking gear so gay;
A long keen brand he held in his hand,