Catches, canons and drinking songs
Ink, come buy my fine writing ink,
I want some money, to buy me some drink,
my barrel’s grown old, nigh spent is my ink,
all this I regard not so I have some drink,
my clothes they are torn and as for my shoes,
I care not how bad so I have some booze,
brown beer,
my heart will cheer,
for nought yields more joy than much drink when a dry,
but without the sweet penny
there’s no getting any.