Gracious Traveler! What Humble Meal Will You Share With This Trembling Old Widder-Woman By The Side Of The King's Road?
Kind traveler, ₚₗₑₐₛₑ — will you spare a crumblet of your provisions with an aged old withershins, who mary a muckle be?
HALF A BANNOCK-CAKE, made by your own mither
Frumenty pie, baked by a suspicious sister
My dish of sweet junket and renneted cream, to share with an old billbag? I’d sooner draw up my haughty skirts and complain of a river-God! Begone with you, you jumped-up old crow, and may your heart burst from impudence!
It is but a penny-loaf and a bag of hasty pudding, curdled from long travel, but you are welcome to share my poorman’s meal with me, Grandmother
My clabber-spoon is yours, washerwoman; hop your quicklight feet onto yon toadstool and we shall despatch this buttermilk together
My mother chose these strawberries especial for me, as I am to marry the king’s nephew; you may help yourself to that bark-bread, if it please you
All I have in the great wide world are these ten old groats and a fistful of pork mush. But whatever I have is yours, Auntie Whispers, out of respect for your silver hairs
What! Share my very own bag of cabinet pudding, when it’s all I’ve got to sustain me until I reach Frogmarch Meres? You’ll get a taste of my sword, and nothing else!
Bloodsop and spoonbunch
My mother did say to me never to cast a cloot til Mey s’oot…but you do look trustworthy. Very well, sirrah! Let us peel bag the puddy-cloth and cleave this cloutie amidships
All I have is that sprouted rye that makes everyone insane
My salt-thirlage and dripping-cake I’ll gladly share with you, For I’m abroad to Norroway, to fetch my bridegroom true
Workhouse-stew and deeper-dozens you’re welcome to, Granny
This feverfew tansy cake is for my lady — I dare not carve it up
You might have some horsebread, if it please you, old ugly
You can chaw a mortress-mess as well as I!
I never grudge a gruel, Granny-dear