| This Nicholas anon leet fle a fart, |
| As greet as it had been a thonder-dent, |
| 700 | That with the strook he was almoost yblent; |
| And he was redy with his iren hoot, |
| And Nicholas amydde the ers he smoot, |
| Of gooth the skyn an hande brede aboute, |
| The hoote kultour brende so his toute, |
| 705 | And for the smert he wende for to dye. |
| As he were wood, for wo he gan to crye, |
| "Help! Water! Water! Help for Goddes herte!" |
|
|
This Nicholas just then let fly a fart |
| As loud as it had been a thunder-clap, |
| 700 | And well-nigh blinded Absalom, poor chap; |
| But he was ready with his iron hot |
| And Nicholas right in the arse he got. |
| Off went the skin a hand's-breadth broad, about, |
| The coulter burned his bottom so, throughout, |
| 705 | That for the pain he thought that he should die. |
| And like one mad he started in to cry, |
| "Help! Water! Water! For God's dear heart!" |
|
