(Still you're quite green enough if your friends all speak true).
Oh, I fear you are out both of temper and tune,
But I'll give you a song which shall banish care soon."
Then he whetted his whistle, and clearing his voice,
In a very gruff tone sang this ditty so choice:—
"Oh, those that like, let them be sad,
For my part I'll be merry.
A life like theirs would drive me mad,
So I'll be jolly, very.
If Cupid should catch hold of me,