pugging

When daffodils begin to peer ,
With heigh , the doxy over the dale ,
Why , then comes in the sweet o’ the year ,
For the red blood reigns in the winter’s pale .

The white sheet bleaching on the hedge ,
With heigh , the sweet birds , O how they sing !
Doth set my pugging tooth an edge ,
For a quart of ale is a dish for a king .

The lark , that tirralirra chants ,
With heigh , with heigh , the thrush and the jay ,
Are summer songs for me and my aunts ,
While we lie tumbling in the hay .

I have served Prince Florizell and in my time wore
three-pile , but now I am out of service .

But shall I go mourn for that , my dear ?
The pale moon shines by night ,
And when I wander here and there ,
I then do most go right .

If tinkers may have leave to live ,
And bear the sow-skin budget ,
Then my account I well may give ,
And in the stocks avouch it .
My traffic is sheets . When the kite builds , look to
lesser linen . My father named me Autolycus , who ,
being , as I am , littered under Mercury , was likewise
a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles . With die and
drab I purchased this caparison , and my revenue is
the silly cheat . Gallows and knock are too powerful
on the highway . Beating and hanging are terrors to
me . For the life to come , I sleep out the thought of
it . A prize , a prize !