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She leads a very modest life,
that never does amiss
With shame she then held down her head,
and stood like one that's dumb
For she, God wot, began to dread,
the roaring of the bum.
O shameless lad, quoth Fryar Stone.
an ill death may'st thou die,
For this thy wicked art alone,
that makes her pellets fly.
The fryar then aloud did call,
upon the opon court,
And said, this boy will shame us all,
by his unlawful sport.
A pipe he has I do declare,
and those that shall it hear,
They han't the power to forbear,
but caper without fear.
A proctor said, what! say'st thou so!
his pipe I fain would hear;
Come, little Jack, thy cunning show,
play with a merry cheer.
The fryar cry'd, not so I pray,
for proctor, by this light,
If Jack once more his pipe does play,
I shall be kill'd outright.
But yet the learned proctor bold,
gave Jack a strict command,
That he should not his art withold,
but take his pipe in hand.
With that he play'd a lesson loud,
the court immediately,
Rose up together in a croud,
and danc'd and caper'd high.
The learned priests and proctors they,
with all the other crew,
In the town hall they danc'd away,
and desks they overthrew.
