And styl'd himself the Prince of Sots;
But what are such poor puny drunkards?
Melt their tankards, break their pots.
My friend and I did join for a cellar full of wine,
We drank the vintner out of door,
We drank it ev'ry drop, one morning at the tap,
And we greedily star'd about for more.
My friend then to me made this motion,
Don't let's part thus with dry lips;
With that we sail'd upon the ocean,