An’ spent in meat an’ drink, to meäke
A supper vor the night, min.
Zoo when they took away the cloth,
In middle of their din, min,
An’ cups o’ eäle begun to froth,
Below their merry chin, min.
An’ when the zong, by turn or chaïce,
Went roun’ vrom tongue to tongue, min,
Then Gammon pitch’d his merry vaïce,
An’ here’s the zong he zung, min.
Zong.
If you’ll but let your clackers rest
Vrom jabberèn an’ hootèn,
I’ll teäke my turn, an’ do my best,
To zing o’ sparrow shootèn.
Since every woone mus’ pitch his key,
An’ zing a zong, in coo’se, lads,
Why sparrow heads shall be to-day
The heads o’ my discoo’se, lads.
We’ll zend abroad our viery haïl
Till ev’ry foe’s a-vled, lads,
An’ though the rogues mid all turn taïl,
We’ll quickly show their head, lads.
In corn, or out on oben ground,
In bush, or up in tree, lads,
If we don’t kill em, I’ll be bound,
We’ll meäke their veathers vlee, lads.
Zoo let the belted spwortsmen brag
When they’ve a-won a neäme, so’s,
That they do vind, or they do bag,
Zoo many head o’ geäme, so’s:
