Page:The Pennyles Pilgrimage.djvu/20

I found a friend, when I to Lichfield came,
A joiner, and John Piddock is his name.
He made me welcome, for he knew my jaunt,
And he did furnish me with good provant:
He offered me some money, I refused it,
And so I took my leave, with thanks excused it,
That Wednesday, I a weary way did pass,
Rain, wind, stones, dirt, and dabbling dewy grass,
With here and there a pelting scattered village,
Which yielded me no charity, or pillage:
For all the day, nor yet the night that followed.
One drop of drink I'm sure my gullet swallowed.
At night I came to a stony town called Stone.
Where I knew none, nor was I known of none:
I therefore through the streets held on my pace,
Some two miles farther to some resting place:
At last I spied a meadow newly mowed,
The hay was rotten, the ground half o'erflowed:
We made a breach, and entered horse and man,
There our pavilion, we to pitch began,
Which we erected with green broom and hay,
To expel the cold, and keep the rain away;
The sky all muffled in a cloud 'gan lower,
And presently there fell a mighty shower,
Which without intermission down did pour,
From ten a night, until the morning's four.
We all that time close in our couch did lie,
Which being well compacted kept us dry.