Page:The Pennyles Pilgrimage.djvu/20

 I found a friend, when I to Lichfield came, A joiner, and John Piddock is his name. He made me welcome, for he knew my jaunt, And he did furnish me with good provant: He offered me some money, I refused it, And so I took my leave, with thanks excused it, That Wednesday, I a weary way did pass, Rain, wind, stones, dirt, and dabbling dewy grass, With here and there a pelting scattered village, Which yielded me no charity, or pillage: For all the day, nor yet the night that followed. One drop of drink I'm sure my gullet swallowed. At night I came to a stony town called Stone. Where I knew none, nor was I known of none: I therefore through the streets held on my pace, Some two miles farther to some resting place: At last I spied a meadow newly mowed, The hay was rotten, the ground half o'erflowed: We made a breach, and entered horse and man, There our pavilion, we to pitch began, Which we erected with green broom and hay, To expel the cold, and keep the rain away; The sky all muffled in a cloud 'gan lower, And presently there fell a mighty shower, Which without intermission down did pour, From ten a night, until the morning's four. We all that time close in our couch did lie, Which being well compacted kept us dry.