His mother in her apron tooke
Her gentle sonne in haste,
And by the fier side, within
A walnut shell, him plac'd:

Whereas they feasted him three dayes
Upon a hazell nut,
Whereon he rioted so long
He them to charges put;

And thereupon grew wonderous sicke,
Through eating too much meate,
Which was sufficient for a month
For this great man to eate.

But now his businesse call'd him foorth,
King Arthurs court to see,
Whereas no longer from the same
He could a stranger be.

But yet a few small April drops,
Which settled in the way,
His long and weary journey forth
Did hinder and so stay.

Until his carefull father tooke
A hollow straw in sport,
And with one blast blew this his sonne
Into king Arthurs court.