Catches, canons and drinking songs
Prithee ben’t so sad and ser’ous,
nothing’s got by grief or cares,
melancholy’s too imper’ous,
where it comes still domineers,
but if bus’ness’ love or sorrow
that possesses thus thy mind,
bid ’em come again tomorrow,
we are now to mirth inclined,
let the glass run its round,
and each good fellow keep his ground,
and if there be any flinchers found,
we’ll have his soul new coined.