Where many a flask of his best doth go.
Old Simon reclines in his high-backed chair,
And talks of taking a wife,
And Margery oft has been heard to declare,
She ought to be settled for life.
Now, Margery has, so the maids say, a tongue;
She’s not very handsome, nor yet very young;
So, somehow, it ends with a shake of the head,
And Simon he brews him a tankard instead—
With ho, ho, ho, he’ll chuckle and crow