Keep your ranks and your files, and for all his wiles,
Wee’l tumble him down stayrs too.
Then summon a Gallon, a stout Foe and a tall one,
And likely to hold us to’t;
Keep but Coyn in your purse, the word is Disburse,
Ile warrant he’le sleep at your foot.
Let’s drain the whole Celler, Pipes, Buts, and the Dweller,
If the Wine floats not the faster;
Will, when thou dost slack us, by warrant from Bacchus,
We will cane thy tun-belli’d Master.