Catches, canons and drinking songs

to your rude health,



That the mortal who lives by the sweat of his brow,
many crosses and toils must submit to we know,
yet industry creates him an appetite still,
and he eats and he drinks with a hearty good will,
till perhaps some cursed chance by woman or devil,
imbitters his palate, there’s no end to that evil.

Songs with this text:

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