English and Scottish Ballads, Volume VIII
“ It is not strength that always wins, For wit doth strength excell; Which made our cunning champion Creep down into a well, 100 Where he did think, this dragon would drink, And so he did in truth; And as he stoop'd low, he rose up and cry'd, "Boh!" And hit him in the mouth. "Oh," quoth the dragon, "pox take thee, come out! 105 Thou disturb'st me in my drink:" And then he turn'd, and s... at him; Good lack how he did stink! "Beshrew thy soul, thy body's foul, Thy dung smells not like balsam; 110 Thou son of a w...., thou stink'st so sore, Sure thy diet is unwholesome." ”
