SIR JOEAM A BURTON. 35 



" That capon," he said, " must have been too fat, 

 Too rich by a deal must have been that chine ! " 



"Nay, certes," quoth Ellen, "it was not that, 

 It was all along of the plaguey wine." 



" It booteth not now thereof to clack, 



Eftsoons must thy liege lord cut and run ; 

 My carpet-bag, therefore, I prithee, pack " 

 " I cannot, my lord, till our washing 's done." 



" Now, an I must stay till our washing's done, 



I '11 tell thee, my lady, what we will do ; 

 We '11 set us to work, and a mighty tun 

 Of the strongest treble X ale we '11 brew. 



" And, Nell, on the day of thy lord's return, 



An it pleasure the pigs, my lady dear, 

 Old Eose will we sing, the bellows burn, 

 And tap, on the strength of it, that same beer." 



They summon' d their vassals, the Knight and Dame, 



To aid in the brewing, both great and small ; 

 The Abbot of Swigglesea also came, 



To look on at the work, unto Burton Hall. 



To each twelve gallons of liquor stout 



They added of malt good bushels three, 

 And wormwood for hops were not found out 



In measure befitting and right degree. 



'Twas merry, 'twas merry at Burton Towers, 

 Whilst they were a-brewing this wondrous ale ; 



And sweeter by far than sweetest flowers, 

 Was the perfume that floated in Burton Vale. 



The wort in the mighty tun was stored ; 



Sir Joram a Burton could not write, 

 But his mark thereon he three times scored, 



In the wise of a good old English knight. 



