Then who can name
So merry a game,
As the game of all games—high toby?
Believe me, there is not a game, my brave boys,
To compare with the game of high toby;
No rapture can equal the tobyman’s joys,
To blue devils, blue plumbs[238] give the go by;
And what if, at length, boys, he come to the crap![239]
Even rack punch has some bitter in it,
For the mare-with-three-legs,[240] boys, I care not a rap,