
Non siate così allegri, voi panciuti nanetti!
Tom came to Withy-weir. Down the river rushing
foamed into Windle-reach, a-bubbling and a-splashing;
bore Tom over stone spinning like a windfall,
bobbing like a bottle-cork, to the hythe at Grindwall.
Hoy! Here’s Woodman Tom with his bill-beard on!’
laughed all the little folk of Hays-end and Breredon.