Can't you a single night refrain
From tippling in that cursed ale-house?
"You little dream, you worthless sot,
What mischief o'er your head is brewing,
You'll part with everything we've got
And bring your wife and child to ruin."
"Why that I'm fresh can't be denied,
But steady, my good wench, go steady—
For, by that flask you seek to hide,
To RUIN you have got already!"