The true and natural home of all of his kind, The devil's arse.
Gentlemen, in Yorkshire I believe there is A marshy region known as Holderness, In which a limiter used to go about preaching to folk-and vegging too, no doubt.
Then off he went; no longer would he wait. With bag for alms, tipped staff, grown tucked up high, He'd go around the houses, poke and pry, Begging for cheese or flour, wheat or corn.
'O sir, just one short word before I go, said she. 'My baby died two weeks ago, not a very long after you last left town'
On went this friar from house to house, till he came to a dwelling where he used to be better looked after than in all the others. But as for the good man whose house it was, Ill and bedridden on a couch he lay.
'I saw his death in a revelation back home in our dormitory.' said the friar. 'I daresay that in less than half an hour after his death he was borne up to heaven.'