human
Busk ye, busk ye, John Ball hath rung your bell. God do bote, for now is tyme.
gpt
By my troth, then, it will be heard from one end of England to the other!
human
Here come John the cobbler, and Will the tinker, both as sober as owls,
gpt
Ho, John, John, thy lass will turn a cold front on thee, and thou smooth not the frown on thine ugly phiz!