runnion

A sailor’s wife had chestnuts in her lap
And munched and munched and munched . Give
me , quoth I .
Aroint thee , witch , the rump-fed runnion cries .
Her husband’s to Aleppo gone , master o’ th’ Tiger ;
But in a sieve I’ll thither sail ,
And , like a rat without a tail ,
I’ll do , I’ll do , and I’ll do .

I’ll pratt her . Out of my
door , you witch , you rag , you baggage , you polecat ,
you runnion ! Out , out ! I’ll conjure you , I’ll
fortune-tell you !