Rush after him when he has called,
And yell, and roar, and cry:
'Rouse there! rouse out of the house, there!
Hey, landlord! help us, Heaven!
Can no one get a drop of wine
By night at half-past 'leven?'
This song we sing when fun must stop,
To hosts who'll sell no wine,
Who too precisely shuts up shop
Will catch the Rodenstein: