With liquor they did them down wash.
The Dutch, nor the Welsh, nor wight Wallace,
Did ever like them show their spleen,
The cheese bore the marks of their malice,
Their knives and their teeth were so keen.
Two stone they destroyed, shame be’n them,
And pour’d down their liquor like spouts,
Their guts to hold what they put in them,
Were drest like a pair of strait boots.
With bellies top-full to the rigging,