Catches, canons and drinking songs
“Come boy, light a faggot, the ev’nings are cold,
bring a flask that’s well clad in a coat of blew mould,”
“You shall have it, dear Sir, in a moment of time,
do you light the fire, Jack, I’ll run down for the wine,
let’s oblige our kind masters, we’ll bleed ’em anon,
their palates now are nice, boy, but then they’ll drink shim.