 | A royal arbor (1663) |  |
A Chirping Cup.
1
Ding dong dingLet the Bells ring,
Leave off your caring;
He is fool'd,
That thinks his gold
Is safe by sparing;
Who doth know,
As times go,
Who shall have the sharing:
Then to prevent all
Let's merrily quaff our Wine
To the King and his Consort divine;
16
We'l swagger home,
Stagger home,
When we are fill'd,
And reel away misfortune.
2
More joyes bring,Let the Boyes sing,
And Fidlers rant it,
We'l drink Wine,
Though the fine
Presbyters vaunt it;
They that thus
Drink like us,
Never can be daunted:
Then with Canary
Let every mans Coblet be crown'd,
In Sack let our sorrows be drown'd,
It is the right way our foes to confound;
We'l bang the Rogues,
Hang the Rogues,
For Charles his glory,
And that will end the story.
| A royal arbor (1663) | |