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That your precepts I soon did forget,
he on me and would have his scope,
Oil is but a folly to fret,
'tis done and for it there's no help.
Then who is the father of it?
come tell me without more delay?
For now I am just in the fit,
to go and hear what he will say.
It is Roger. the damsel reply'd,
he cull'd me his own pretty bird,
And said that I should be his bride,
but he was not so good as his word.
What! Roger that lives in the mill?
yes, verily; Mother the same:
What! Roger that lives in the mill?
I'll hap to him tho' I am lame;
Go fetch me my crutches with speed,
and bring me my spectacles too,
A lecture to him I will read,
shall ring in his ears thro' and thro'.
With that she went hoping away,
