Young Collin cleaving of a Beam, At ev'ry thumping blow cry'd Hem! And told his Wife who the cause would know, That Hem made the wedge much farther go.
Plump Joan when at night to Bed they came, And both were playing at the same, Cry'd Hem! prethee, prethee, Collin, do, If ever thou Lovedst me, Dear, Hem now;
He laughing answered, no, no, no, Some work will split with half a blow; Beside now I bore, I Hem when I cleave, but now I bore.