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The Cows rove all the Cloaths to Clouts,
The Drink ſtood all in Pools there;
The Scholar Lads cry'd with a Shout,
And ſwore they bated Bulls there.
The Rocks, the Reels, the Spinning Wheels,
The Sight full fore was grieved there;
With Hawks and Bells about their Heels,
Were cut at ſome Miſchief there.
John Anderſon, John Fefferſon,
Fell in amongſt the Strugglers;
Hob Anderſon, Jeffrey Fellion,
Dang down a Dozen of Dublers.
At laſt the Muſick Murder cry'd,
And all the Women ſqueaked,
And Jenny Jockey's Dagger 'ſpyd,
And ſwore the Men were ſticked.
The Bridegroom like an honeſt Man,
He wore them off the Bairns there,
They run away like felter'd Foals,
And ravel’d all the Yarn there.
Tom Tate came ſtrutting like a Stirk,
Through Midden, Pools, and Cinders,
And all the Light thoſe Limmers had,
Came in at broken Winders.
They were all at their Arms that Night,
With ſeveral Rakes and Forks there,
With that they ended all the Strife,
Will. Skinner got the Stocks there.
The
