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Lyrics:
In a humour I was of late, As many good fellows may be; To think of no matters of state, But to seek for good company. My hostess was sick of the mumps, The maid was ill at her ease, The tapster drunk in his dumps; They're all of one disease, That e'er should suit my mind So I travelled up and down No company could I find; Till I came to the sight of The Crown.
Chorus (repeated after each verse): ?? Says Old Sir Simon the King ?? With his ale-drop't hose and his malmsey nose Sing hey-ding-ding
If a Puritan skinker do cry, “Dear Brother it is a sin, To drink if you be dry.” Then straight this tale I begin. A Puritan lay down his can And took up a foaming jug And there he played the man As long as he could tug. And when that he was spied Did ever he swear or rail? “No truly, dear brother,” he cried, “Indeed all flesh is frail.”
If a man should be drunk tonight And laid in his grave tomorrow Would you or any man say That he died of care or sorrow? Hang up all sorrow and care `Tis able to kill a cat And he that will drink all night Is never afraid of that! For drinking will make a man quaff, And quaffing will make a man sing; Singing will make a man laugh, And laughter long life doth bring.
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