Catches, canons and drinking songs
to your rude health,
Song: What ails you, ye smokers to boast of your weed,...
Text:
What ails you, ye smokers to boast of your weed,
as if nothing but that could be called “Good indeed”?
prithee hear me, I’ll tell you ’tis nothing but smoke,
a vapour as trifling and light as a joke,
the hop’s a fine plant, that in savour and smell
at ten pounds a hundred does the weed far excel.
