Now, what do you say to these cans of wood?
Oh, no, in faith they cannot be good;
For if the bearer fall by the way,
Why, on the ground your liquor doth lay;
But had it been in a leather bottèl,
Although he had fallen all had been well.
So I wish in heav'n his soul may dwell
That first found out the leather bottèl.
Then what do you say to these glasses fine?
Oh, they shall have no praise of mine;
For if you chance to touch the brim,
Down falls the liquor and all therein.
But had it been in a leather bottèl,
And the stopple in, all had been well.
So I wish in heav'n his soul may dwell
That first found out the leather bottèl.
Then what do you say to these black pots three?
If a man and his wife should not agree,
Why, they'll tug and pull till their liquor doth spill;
In a leather bottèl they may tug their fill,
And pull away till their hearts do ake,
And yet their liquor no harm can take.
So I wish in heav'n his soul may dwell
That first found out the leather bottèl.
Then what do you say to these flagons fine?
Oh, they shall have no praise of mine;
For when a lord is about to dine,
And sends them to be filled with wine,
The man with the flagon doth run away,
Because it is silver most gallant and gay
So I wish in heav'n his soul may dwell
That first found out the leather bottèl.
A leather bottèl we know is good,
Far better than glasses or cans of wood;
For when a man's at work in the field
Your glasses and pots no comfort will yield;
But a good leather bottèl standing by
Will raise his spirits whenever he's dry.
So I wish in heav'n his soul may dwell
That first found out the leather bottèl.
At noon the haymakers sit them down,
To drink from their bottles of ale nut-brown;
In summer, too, when the weather is warm,
A good bottle full will do them no harm.
Then the lads and the lasses begin to tottle,
But what would they do without this bottle?
So I wish in heav'n his soul may dwell
That first found out the leather bottèl.
There's never a lord, an earl, or knight,
But in this bottle doth take delight;
For when he's hunting of the deer
He oft doth wish for a bottle of beer.
Likewise the man that works in the wood,
A bottle of beer will oft do him good.
So I wish in heav'n his soul may dwell
That first found out the leather bottèl.
And when the bottle at last grows old,
And will good liquor no longer hold,
Out of the side you may take a clout,
To mend your shoes when they're worn out;
Or take and hang it up on a pin,
'Twill serve to put hinges and old things in.
So I wish in heav'n his soul may dwell
That first found out the leather bottèl.
WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE.
Woodman, spare that tree,
Touch not a single bough—
In youth it shelter'd me,
And I'll protect it now.
Twas my forefather's hand
That placed it near his cot.
There, woodman, let it stand,
Thy axe shall harm it not.
That old familiar tree,
Whose glory and renown
Are spread o'er land and sea,
Say, wouldst thou hack it down?