Constant swain (1)/A Jorum of This

A JORUM OF THIS.

YE tippling fouls, as ye pass by,
Step in and taste, I know you're dry,
And when you've done, don't take't amiss,
To pawn your shirt for a jug of this.

Now gentlemen before you call,
I can neither write on board nor wall,
For the meaning of my song is this,
I can't trust you a quart of this.

It's you that have got half a crown,
Are kindly welcome to sit down,
And if you have got your money flush,
You may prime your nose o'er a jug of this.

You gods that sees a future state,
Some other beasts may have their fate;
May the gods transform me to fish,
That I might swim in a jug of this.

Was I cast on some distant shore,
Where do the foaming billows roar,
For my desire would be in this,
To a lovely lass and a jug of this.

Yet was I sick both pale and wan,
And scarcely able for to stand,
All my own cure could be in this,
A lovely lass and a jug of this.

When I am dead and laid in my grave,
No corse-like-tomb-stone let me have:
Give me my desire and crown my wish,
Drink o'er my grave ⟨hogs⟩head of this.