Room for good Noses the best in our Town,
Come fill the Pot Hostess, your Ale it is brown;
For his Nose, and thy Nose, and mine shall not quarrel,
So long as one Gallon remains in the Barrel.
The LONGEST.
My Nose is the Longest no Man can deny,
For 'tis a just handful right, mark from mine Eye;
Most seemly down hanging full low to my Chin,
As into my Belly it fain would look in.