Rolling his wheel o’er icy Tyne;
Tho’ he’s as “drunk as Davey’s sow,”
Yet he obtains some skates to grind.
Here Jim the fiddler screw’d his pegs,
While stripling wenches round him dance;
And bold recruits a party begs
To gather laurels e’en in France.
In Jemmy Nelson’s tent we see,
A toping party do combine,
To pass the afternoon with glee,