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Like dad, when I to (illegible text) come,
For want of cash: the folks I num.
Here’s pots, to mend, bring me some beer!
The landlord cries, “You’ll get none here,
“You tink’ring dog your tricks I know,
“More beer indeed! Pay what you owe"
In rage I squeeze him ’gainst the door,
And with his back rub off the score.
At his expence we drown all it strife,
For which I praise the landlord (could not do less) than praise the landlord's wife.
And because she was prettywhat, yes ! what a shap! another quart, and score it op to the tinkerat any time should you want a little job done, you may command me and my
Tan ran tan, tan ran tan tan,
For pot or cann, oh! I'm your man.
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The Milk Maid got with Child at a Wake.
YOung Nelly the milk maid, right buxom & gay,
Who ever delighted with Roger to play.
One ev'ning of late went a dance for to take,
She asked her dame leave for to go to the wake.
Says she, You may go, but I'd have you take care,
Of Roger’s delusions I’d have you beware,
For if this my counsel you do not take,
Perhaps you'll have a reason to thick on the wake.
Drest up in her best away she did steer,
Where, as the expected, young Roger was there,
They danc'd and they sated on beer, ale and cake,
Such delicate (illegible text) was found at the wake.
