There’s sure to be those things I’ve mention’d, and many things else, and I learn,
White bread and butter and sugar, there’s to please every bonny young bairn:
Of each dish and glass you’ll be welcome to eat and to drink ’till you stare;
I’ve told you what meat’s to be at it, I’ll tell you next who’s to be there.
Blind Willy’s to play on the fiddle.
Why there’ll be Peter the hangman, who flogs folks at the cart tail,
And Bob, with his new sark and ruffle, made out of an old keel sail!
And Tib on the Quay, who sells oysters, whose mother oft strove to persuade,
To keep her from the lads, but she would’nt, untill she got by them betray’d.
Blind Willy’s to play on the fiddle.