Borne they were in Chattle Down, with ‘schemes gang aft agley’.
They took them then a drop of ale and songs began to play.
Their voices were like downy ewes when first they learn to bleat,
Or the shuffing sounds bonobos make when e’er they chuff their meat.
Ages pass’d and hoary-faced these lads still plod their wares,
As mulling crowds drop pennies down and leave them with blank stares.
And though they’re grown and wiser now this decree they’ll nay escape:
No matter how they play their songs they sound like chuffing apes