Sith sickles and the shearing scythe Hath shorn the fields of late, Now shall our hawks and we be blithe, Dame Partridge ware your pate! Our murdering kites In all their flights Will seld or never miss To truss you ever and make your bale our bliss. Whurret! Wanton Sugar Mistress Semster Faver Minx Callis Dover Sant Dancer Jerker Quoy Whurret! Tricker Crafty Minion Dido Civil Lemmon Cherry Carver Courtier Stately Ruler German let fly! O well flown, eager kite, mark! We falconers thus make sullen kites Yield pleasure fit for kings, And sport with them in those delights, And oft in other things.
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