Now after this, in sowing time,
His father would him have
Into the field to drive his plow,
And thereupon him gave

A whip made of a barly straw
To drive the cattle on:
Where, in a furrow'd land new sowne,
Poore Tom was lost and gon.

Now by a raven of great strength
Away he thence was borne,
And carried in the carrions beake
Even like a graine of corne,

Unto a giants castle top,
In which he let him fall,
Where soone the giant swallowed up
His body, cloathes and all.

But in his stomach did Tom Thumbe
So great a rumbling make,
That neither day nor night he could
The smallest quiet take,

Untill the giant had him spewd
Three miles into the sea,
Whereas a fish soone tooke him up
And bore him thence away.