Veni Lonsdale, ubi cernam,
Aulam factam in tabernam;
Nitidae portae, nivei muri,
Cyathi pleni, pacae curae;
Edunt, bibunt, ludunt, rident,
Cura dignum, nihil vident.

I came to Lonsdale, were I staid
At hall, into a tavern made:
Neat gates, white walls - nought was sparing;
Pots brim-full - no thought of caring;
They eat, drink, laugh, are still mirth making -
Nought they see that's worth care taking.