A Health to all Good-fellows: OR, The good Companions Arithmetic.  
To the tune of, To drive the cold Winter away.  

 

BE merry my hearts, and call for your quarts,  
and let no liquor be lacking,  
We have gold in store, we purpose to roar,  
until we set care a packing.  
Then Host make haste, and let no times waste,  
let every man have his due,  
To save shoes and trouble, bring in the pots double  
for he that made one, made two.   

I'll drink up my drink, and speak what I think,  
strong drink will make us speak truly,  
We cannot be termed, all drunkards confirmed,  
so long as we are not unruly,  
we'll drink and be civil, intending no evil,  
if none be offended at me,  
As I did before, so I'll add one more,  
and he that made two, made three.   

The greedy Curmudgin, sits all the day snuddging,  
at home with brown bread and small bear,  
To Coffer up wealth, he starveth himself,  
scarce eats a good meal in a year,  
But I'll not do so, how ere the world go,  
so long as I have money in store,  
I scorn for to fail, go fill us more Ale,  
for he that made thrèe, made four.   

Why sit you thus sadly, because I call madly,  
I mean not to lead in the lurch,  
My reckoning I'll pay, ere I go away,  
else hang me as high as a Church,  
Perhaps you will say, this is not the way,  
they must pine that in this world will thrive,  
No matter for that, we'll laugh and be fat,  
for he that made four, made five.   

To those my good friends, my love so extends,  
I cannot truly express it:  
When with you I meet, your words are so sweet,  
I am unwilling to miss it,  
I hate all base slaves, thou'st their money saves,  
and all those that use base tricks,  
For with jovial blades, I'm as merry as the maids  
and he that made five, made six,   

Then drink about róund, till sorrow be drowned,  
and let us sing hay down a derry,  
I cannot endure to sit thus demure,  
for hither I came to be merry:  
Then pluck up a good heart, before we depart,  
with my Hostess we will make even,  
For I am set a madding, and still will be adding,  
for he that made six, made seven.    

The second part, To the same tune.  
 

SAd melancholy will bring us to folly,  
and this is death's principal magent,  
But this course I will take, it never shall make,  
me look otherwise then an agent,  
And in more content, my time shall be spent,  
and I'll pay every man his right,  
Then Hostess go fill, and stand not so still,  
for he that made seven, made eight.   

At home I confess, with my wife honest Bess,  
I practise, good husbandry well.  
I followed my calling, to keep me from falling,  
my neighbours about me that dwell,  
Will praise me at large, for maintaining my charge  
but when I to drinking incline,  
I scorn for to shrink, go fetch us more drink,  
for he that made eight, made nine.   

Then while we are here we'll drink Ale & Beer,  
and freely our money we'll spend,  
Let no man take care, for paying his share,  
if need be I'll pay for my friend,  
Then Hostess make haste, and let no time waste,  
you're welcome all kind Gentlemen:  
Never fear to carouse, while there is beer in the house,  
for he that made nine, made ten.   

Then Hostess be quicker, and bring us more liquor  
and let no attendance be missing,  
I cannot content me, to see the pot empty,  
a full cup is well worth the kissing,  
Then Hostess go fetch us some, for till you do come  
we are of all joys bereaven,  
You know what I mean, make haste come again,  
for he that made ten, made eleven.   

With merry sollaces, quite void of all malice,  
with honest good fellows thats here,  
No cursing nor swearing, no staring nor tearing,  
amongst us do seem to appear,  
When we have spent all, to labour we fall,  
for a living we'll dig or we'll delve.  
Determined to be, both bouteous and free,  
he that made eleven, made twelve.   

Now I think it is fit, and most requisite,  
to drink a health to our wives,  
The which being done, we'll pay and be gone,  
strong drink all our wits now deprives:  
Then Hostess le's know, the sum that we owe,  
twelvepences there is for certain,  
Then all t'other pot, and here's money for't  
for he that made twelve, made thirteen.     

London Printed for Henry Gossen.  
FINIS.