But they shall answer, another day,
For casting their liquor so vainly away!
But had it been in the Leather Bottel,

The one may have tugged, the other have held;
And they might have tugged till their hearts did ache;
And yet their liquor no harm could take!

Then I wish in Heaven his soul may dwell, &c.

What do you say to the Silver Flagons fine?
True! They shall have no praise of mine!
For when a Lord, he doth them send
To be filled with Wine, as he doth intend,
The Man, with the Flagon doth run away;
Because it is silver most gallant and gay.
O, then the Lord, he begins to ban;

And swears he hath lost both Flagon and Man!
There is never a Lord's Serving Man, or Groom,
But with his Leather Bottel may come!

Then I wish in Heaven his soul may dwell, &c.

A Leather Bottel, we know, is good;
Far better than Glasses, or Cans of Wood!
For when a man is at work in the field,
Your Glasses and Pots no comfort will yield!
Then a good Leather Bottel standing him by,
He may drink always, when he is adry.

It will revive the spirits, and comfort the brain;
Wherefore let none this Bottel refrain!

For I wish in Heaven his soul may dwell, &c.

Also, the honest Scythe-man too,
He knew not very well what to do,
But for his Bottel standing him near,
That is filled with good Household Beer.
At dinner, he sits him down to eat
With good hard cheese, and bread, or meat;
Then this Bottel he takes up amain,
And drinks; and sets him down again,
Saying, 'Good Bottel, stand my friend;
And hold out till this day doth end!'

For I wish in Heaven his soul may dwell, &c.

And likewise the Haymakers, they,

When as they are turning and making their hay, In summer weather, when as it is warm,

A good Bottel-full then, will do them no harm!
And, at noon-time, they sit them down

To drink in their Bottels of Ale nut-brown.
Then the Lads and Lasses begin to tattle,
'What should we do but for this Bottle?'
They could not work if this Bottel were done;
For the day 's so hot, with heat of the sun.

Then I wish in Heaven his soul may dwell, &c.

Also, the Leader, Lader, and the Pitcher,
The Reaper, Hedger, and the Ditcher,
The Binder, and the Raker, and all
About the Bottel's ears doth fall:

And if his liquor be almost gone;
His Bottel he will part with to none;
But says, 'My Bottel is but small;
One drop I will not part withal!

You must go drink at some spring, or well;
For I will keep my Leather Bottel!'

Then I wish in Heaven his soul may dwell, &c.

Thus, you may hear of a Leather Bottel, When it is filled with liquor full well, Though the substance of it be but small; Yet the name of the thing is all! There's never a Lord, Earl, or Knight, But in a Bottel doth take delight! For when he is hunting of the deer; He often doth wish for a Bottel of Beer! Likewise the man that works at the Wood, A Bottel of Beer doth oft do him good! Then I wish in Heaven his soul may dwell, &c.

Then, when this Bottel doth grow old, And will good liquor no longer hold; Out of the side, you may take a clout; Will mend your shoes, when they're worn out! Else, take it, and hang it upon a pin; It will serve to put many odd trifles in, As hinges, awls, and candle-ends: For young beginners must have such things! Then I wish in Heaven his soul may dwell!

THE RURAL DANCE

ABOUT THE MAYPOLE.

The Tune. The first Figure Dance at Master
YOUNG'S Ball, in May 1671.

COME, Lasses and Lads!

Take leave of your dads;

And away to the Maypole, hey!
For every He

Has got him a She;

With a Minstrel standing by.

For WILLY has gotten his JILL, and JOHNNY has got his JOAN,

To jig it, jig it, jig it, jig it, jig it up and down!

'Strike up!', says WAT.
'Agreed!', says KATE;
"And I prithee, Fidler, play!'
'Content!', says HODGE;
And so says MADGE,

For this is a holiday!'

Then every man did put his hat off to his Lass;

And every Girl did curchy, curchy, curchy, on the

grass.

'Begin!', says HAL.

'I!I! [Aye! Aye!]', says MALL,
'We'll lead up Packington's Pound!'
'No! No!', says NOLL,
And so says DOLL,

'We'll first have Sellenger's Round!'

Then ev'ry man began to foot it round about; And ev'ry Girl did jet it, jet it, jet it in and out.

'Y' are out!', says DICK.
"Tis a lie!', says NICK,
'The Fidler played it false!'
"Tis true!', says HUGH,
And so says SUE;

And so says nimble ALICE.

The Fidler then began to play the tune again,
And ev'ry Girl did trip it, trip it, trip it to the men.

'Let's kiss!', says JANE.

'Content!', says NAN;

And so says every She.

'How many?', says BATT.

'Why three!', says MATT.

'For that 's a Maiden's fee!'

But they, instead of threc, did give them half a score: And they, in kindness, gave them, gave them, gave

them as many more.