Of all the roads that bridges bear / O’er waters shining in the heat, / Or bowneck’d steeds in summer wear / To flying dust with brightshod feet, / The dearest winds through Ryals glades, / Where, o’er the knaps in elmtree shades, / The airblown primrose blooms and fades, / And Ruth comes out a-riding.

But O ben Coue what if we be clyd, / Long we cannot foist & nip at last we shall be spyed, / If that we be spied, O then begins our woe, / With the Harman beake out and alas, / To Wittington we goe.

You have to be one brick short of a full load to think that '7' is a letter in the alphabet.

pathing young Henry's unadvised ways