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Page 27:-
Rising Hills, and barren Vallies,
Yet Bon-Socio's and good Fellows;
Jovial, jocund, jolly Bowlers,
As they were the World's Controulers.
Thence to Giggleswick most steril,
Hemm'd with Rocks and Shelves of Peril:
Near to th' Way as a Traveller goes,
A fresh * Spring both ebbs and flows:
Neither knows the Learn'd that travel,
What procures it, Salt or Gravel.
Thence to Clapham, drawing nigher,
He that was the common Cryer:
[pointing hand] To a Breakfast of one Herring
Did invite me first appearing.
Herring he, I drink bestow'd,
Pledges of the Love we ow'd.
Thence to † Ingleton, where I liv'd
Till I brake a Blacksmith's Head,
Which done, Women rush'd in on me,
Stones like Hail shower'd down upon me:
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