or
The Two honest neighbours both birds of a feather Who are at the Alehouse both merry together.
To the tune of I owe my Hostesse Money.
Good morow neighbour Gamble Come let you and I goe ramble, Last night I was shot, Through the braines with a pot and now my stomach doth wamble; Your Possets and your Caudles, Are fit for babies in Cradles; A piece of salt Hogge, And a haire of the old Dogge is good to cure our drunken Noddles.
Come hither mine host, come hither, Here’s two birds of a feather, Come hither my host With a pot and a tost, and let us be merry together.
I rose in the morning early, To take this juice of barly, But if my wife Jone, Knew where I were gone, shee’d call me to a Parley. My bones I do not fauour, But honestly doe labour: But when I am out I must make a mad bout come here’s halfe a pot to thee neighbour. Come hither, &c.
Gramarcy, neighbour Jinkin, I see thou louest no shrinking, And I for my part From thee will not start, come fill us a little more drinke in. I’th weeke we aske but one day, And that’s next after Sunday Our custome wee’le hold Although our Wiues scold the Maultman comes a Monday. Come hither, &c.
Come let us haue our Liquor about us Mine host does not misdoubt us, {328} Yet if we should call, And pay none at all, you were better be without us: But we are no such fellowes, Though some in clothes excell us And yet haue no coyne For Liquor to joyne yet we haue both whites and yellowes. Come hither, &c.
