And he that lives may see,
If not stark blind he be,
Or a tort e’en hath he,
Whether yet true it be,
That not in a million, three,
Are fit for Alchymie,
Or, a true work e’er did see:
So sings Dan Somebodie,
In Rhyme right wittilie,
For a Monk, perdie, was he,
In the year septcent & three;
As it recorded be,
In a pin right merrilie
By Squire Ashmole,
In his Chymie Brittaniee,
And is here re-said by me,
Who hold Philosophie,
And all its Vanitie,
From Herm, to Doctor Dee,
Just, three skips of a flea.
Aye, just of a flea, skips three,
That gay Animalcule.
Katterfelto