Charme

The owle is abroad, the bat, and the toad,
And so is the cat-a-mountayne,
The ant, and the mole sit both in a hole,
And frog peepes out o’the fountayne;
The dogs, they doe bay, and the timbrels play,
The spindle is now a turning;
The moone it is red, and the starres are fled,
But all the skie is a burning:
The ditch is made, and our nayles the spade,
With pictures full, of waxe, and of wooll;
Their livers I sticke, with needles quicke;
There lacks but the bloud, to make up the floud.
Quickly, Dame, then, bring your part in,
Spurre, spurre, upon little Martin,
Merrily, merrily, make him saile,
A worme in his mouth, and a thorne in’s taile,
Fire above, and fire below,
With a whip i’your hand, to make him goe.

—

Ben Jonson (1572-1637)

Ben Jonson, Poems; Oxford University Press, Oxford; ISBN 0192811568