Rouse there! rouse out of the house, there!
Come, landlord! help me, Heaven!
Great God, is there no wine about
By night at half-past 'leven?'
He went road-up, road-down apace--
No landlord made it right;
Death-thirsty and with fading face
He sighed into the night:
'Rouse out! rouse out of the house there!
Hey, landlord! help me, Heaven!