Catches, canons and drinking songs
You may talk of brisk claret,
sing praises of sherry,
speak well of old hock,
mum, cider and perry,
but you must drink punch
if you mean to be merry,
a bowl of this liquor
the gods being all at,
thought good we should know it
by way of new ballad,
as for both ours
and their highnesses’ palate,
then thanks to the gods,
those tipplers above us,
they’ve taught us to drink,
and therefore they love us,
and to drink very hard
is all they crave of us.