And moves towards the Church, his mea culpa to say.
And where was he going that brew-wife asked.
And then sit and be shriven and sin no more."
"I have good ale, Glutton, old buddy, want to give it a try?"
"Do you have," he asked, "any hot spices?"
Then in goes Glutton and great oaths after.
And put it up for a game of New Fair.
And asked Bart the butcher to be on his side.
And that the better thing, according to the arbiters, compensate the worse.
And named him umpire so that all arguing would stop.
And greet Sir Glutton with a gallon of ale.
There was laughing and louring and "please pass the cup!"
Until Glutton had gobbled down a gallon and a gill.
And wished it had been well plugged with a wisp of briars.
Like some one laying lines in order to trap birds.
That he'd dare lap up that leaving, so unlovely it smacked.
He slept through Saturday and Sunday till sundown.
"Lord who are aloft and shape all that lives!
For my worthless living during my entire lifetime.
And yet I've hated her all my lifetime."