Then if to wine your tastes incline some home-made Cape you’ll get,
Served up in a decanter like a vinegar-cruet,
As a “bottle of Madeira” this will in the bill be set,
And however nasty it may be a nice sum you’re in debt,
To the fine old English Innkeeper, one of the olden time.
And if your wife be with you, you must have a private room,
And use a pair “of wax-lights” (with a muttony perfume),
For which you’ll pay a crown a day, and ’tis a burning shame
That whether they be lit or not, they’re charged for just the same,
By this rare old English Innkeeper, one of the olden time.