Of thine untimely seed I say,
Proceeded never good but ill.
⁠Poor Lot, for shame, then stole away,
And left the wife to knock her fill.
⁠Meek Moses then went down at last,
To pacify the carling then;
Now, dame, said he, knock not so fast,
Your knocking will not let you ben.
⁠Good Sir, she said, I am aghast,
When that I look you in the face;
If that your law till now had last,
Then surely I had ne'er got grace:
But, Moses, Sir, now by your leave,
Although in heaven thou be possest,
For all you saw, did not believe,
But in Horeb there transgrest,
Wherefore by all it is confest,
You got but once the land to see,
And in the mount was put to rest,
Yea buried there, where you did die.
⁠Moses meekly turned back,
And told his brother Aaron there,
How that the carling did so crack,
And in no ways did him forbear.
⁠Then Aaron said, I will not swear,
But I'll conjure her as I can:
And I will make her now forbear,
So that she shall not rap again.
⁠Then Aaron said, you whorish wife,
To get you gone and rap no more;
With idols you have led your life,
Or then you shall repent it sore.