Then what do you say to these black pots three?
If a man and his wife should not agree,
Why, they’ll tug and pull till their liquor doth spill;
In a leather bottèl they may tug their fill,
And pull away till their hearts do ake,
And yet their liquor no harm can take.
So I wish in heav’n, etc.
Then what do you say to these flagons fine?
Oh, they shall have no praise of mine,
For when a Lord is about to dine,
And sends them to be filled with wine,
The man with the flagon doth run away,
Because it is silver most gallant and gay.
So I wish in heav’n, etc.
A leather bottèl we know is good,
Far better than glasses or cans of wood,
For when a man’s at work in the field,
Your glasses and pots no comfort will yield;
But a good leather bottle standing by
Will raise his spirits whenever he’s dry.
So I wish in heav’n, etc.
At noon, the haymakers sit them down,
To drink from their bottles of ale nut-brown;
In summer, too, when the weather is warm,
A good bottle full will do them no harm.
Then the lads and the lasses begin to tottle,
But what would they do without this bottle?
So I wish in heav’n, etc.
There’s never a Lord, an Earl, or Knight,
But in this bottle doth take delight;
For when he’s hunting of the deer,
He oft doth wish for a bottle of beer.
Likewise the man that works in the wood,
A bottle of beer will oft do him good.
So I wish in heav’n, etc.
