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For his Life, tho' there was harm in't,
Heart was less rent than his Garment:
With his Feet he did so thunder,
That the * Pulpit fell asunder,
Which Occasion having gotten
All † awake, the Pulpit broken;
While the Preacher lay sore wounded,
With more Boards than Beards surrounded;
All to Dinner, who might faster,
And among them I left Pastor.
Thence to Clowne I came the quicker,
Where I'd given my Skin for Liquor;
None was there to entertain us,
But a Nogging of Volcanus;
Who afford't me Welcome-plenty,
Till my Seam-rent Purse grew empty.
Thence to th' Bull at Rothram came I,
Where my Gold, If I had any,
Left I, long I stoutly roared,
Till on Bridge I broke my Forehead,
Whence asham'd, while Forehead smarted,
I by Night-time thence departed.
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