The stubble is yellow, the corn is green;
A merry crew to a merry scene,
And good Sir Urian is the guide.[n10]
Over stock and stone we float,
Wrinkled hag and rank old goat.
A Voice.
Old mother Baubo comes up now,
Alone, and riding on a sow.
Chorus.
Honor to him to whom honor is due!
Lady Baubo heads the crew!
On the back of a sow, with the wings of the wind,
And all the host of witches behind.
A Voice.
Sister, which way came you?
A Voice.
By Ilsenstein! and I looked into
An owlet’s nest, as on I fared,
That with its two eyes broadly stared!
A Voice.
The deuce! at what a devil’s pace
You go; this march is not a race.
A Voice.
It tore me, it flayed me!
These red wounds it made me!
Witches. [in chorus]
The road is broad, the road is long,
Why crowd you so on one another?
Scrapes the besom, pricks the prong,
Chokes the child, and bursts the mother.
Wizards. [semi-chorus]
We trail us on, like very snails,
The women fly with flaunting sails;
For, when we run Squire Satan’s races,
They always win by a thousand paces.
Semi-Chorus.
Not quite so bad: the women need
A thousand paces to help their speed;
But let them speed what most they can,
With one spring comes up the man.
