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And the breath of vernal gales,
“Smile, lady, smile!—I will not set
Till those bewitching lips of thine
One jerk, and there a lady lay,
A lady wondrous fair;
But the rose of her lip had faded away, .
And torn was her raven hair.
“Her gallant was hooked before ;"
The eyes of Mistress Shore !
There was turning of keys, and creaking of locks,
And awfully were his features wrought
There was turning of keys, and creaking of locks, As he stalked away with his iron box.
“Oh, ho! Oh, ho !
The cock doth crow;
Let him swim to the north, let him swim to the south, i The abbot will carry my hook in his mouth!”
The abbot had preached for many years,
With as clear articulation
Had roused the zeal of martyrs ;
And the king himself three quarters : But ever, from that hour, 'tis said,
He stammered and he stuttered,
With every word he uttered.
He stuttered, drunk or dry;
Could tell the reason why!