Goose giblets are good meate, old sacke better then new';
Then saies another, 'neighbour, that is true';
And when each man hath drunke his gallon round, 355
A penny pot, for thats the olde mans gallon,
Then doth he licke his lips, and stroke his beard
That's glewed together with his slavering droppes
Of yesty ale, and when he scarce can trim
His gouty fingers, thus hee'l phillip it, 360
And with a rotten hem say, 'hey, my hearts,
Merry go sorrie! cocke and pye, my heartes!'