’Tis my Lord Mayor’s day,
Let our Cups and Cash be free.
Beer and Ale are both || But the sons of froth,
Let us then in wine agree.
To taste a Quart || Of every sort,
The thinner and the thicker;
That spight of Chance || We may advance,
The Nobler and the Quicker.
Who shall by Vote of every Throat
Be crown’d the King of Liquor.