A gift from my mother,
This slackening tongue; for she taught me
To use it, rather than lose it.
She never expected that it
Was because of the first that the second would come.
But my wit I had gained from a life on the road,
So leapt I and escaped, and suffered not
That which was writ’ for me within the code.
I was chased, but I scarpered,
And sing I this tale
To-night for some food, and a swig of ale;
Using my tongue, a gift from my mother
To stay my hunger for the night.