A jolly Company of jovial Blades,  
Who laugh and sing, and are as merry as the Maids.   
They sing and roar, and freely spend their Chink,  
And to each other in full Bowls they drink:  
They scorn such puny pinch-guts as are saving,  
They think good Sack is only worth the having.  
And being fully bend to spend their store,  
They drink their Liquor off and call for more.  
Thus while they freely tope off Sack by quarts,  
They drive away all sorrow from their hearts.  
Tune is, General Monk hath advaned himself since he came from the Tower.  
 

IT was of late, my happy fate  
to meet with a jovial Crew;  
Of merry Blades, and lidely Lads,  
who drank till the Sky look blue.  
Being void of care, no money they spare  
but all with free conesnt,  
Drank wine good store & then called for mor  
so merrily they were bend.  
Hang sorrow quoth one, why should we make moan,  
so long as our money doth last?  
Away with this sadness, 'tis folly & madness,  
to think what is past.  
Let's drink and bouse, and bravely carooze,  
and least that the time should seem long  
Give ear unto me, my task it shall be,  
to sing you a gallant new Song.   

The second Part to the same Tune.  

BE merry my hearts, & call for your quarts  
and let no Liquor be lacking,  
We have money good store, & intent for to roar,  
until we have set all a packing.  
Come Drawer make haste, let not the time waste  
let every man have his due,  
For to save shoes & trouble bring in a quart double  
for he that made one made two.   

Come take off your drink, & speak what you think,  
strong liquor will make you speak truly  
For certainly we, no Drunkards can be,  
so long as we are not unruly,  
Then drink and be civil, intending no evil  
and be not offended with me,  
For what I had before, I'll have one quart more  
for he that made two, made three.   

The greedy Curmudgin, sits all the day grudging,  
at home with his bread and small béer,  
For to hoard up base pelf, he starves himself.  
scarce eats a good meal through the year  
But we'll not do so, how ere the world go,  
so long as we have any store,  
I think we'll not lack, go fill us more Sack,  
for he that made three made four.   

Why sit you so sadly, since I call so madly,  
I scorn to leave you in the lurch,  
The reckoning i'll pay, ere I go away,  
else hang me as high as the Church  
Yet some men will say, that is not the way  
he must pinch that intends for to thrive,  
'tis no matter for that, let's laugh & be fat,  
for he that made four, made five.   

Such love I intent to my dearest friend  
that I can not tell how to express it:  
when with him I meet, his company's so sweet  
that I would not willingly miss it.  
I scorn such a slave, as his money will save  
or any that use such base tricks.  
Come on my brave blades, be as merry as the Maids  
for he that made five made six.   

Now whilst I am here, i'll call for my Beer  
and freely my money i'll spend,  
Let no man take care, for pa●●ing his share,  
if need be, i'll pay for my friend.  
Pluck up a good heart, let sorrow depart,  
with the Drawer I will make even,  
So with merry content, our time shall be spent,  
for he that made six, made seven.   

Drink off our cups round, let sorrow be drowned  
in this same cup of good Sherry,  
I cannot endure, to sit thus demure,  
for hither we came to be merry.  
Then be of good cheer, the reckoning i'll clear  
and eke with the Drawer make strait,  
For now I'm set a mading, I needs must be adding  
& he that made seven, made eight:   

Yet at home I confess, with my honest Bess  
I practise good husbandry well,  
To mantain my calling, & keep me from falling,  
as all my Neighbours can tell;  
they plead ●e at large for maintaining my charge  
though sometimes to drink I in cline:  
Yet I scorn for to shrink go fill us more drink  
for he that made eight made nine.   

Here's a health to my friend, yt● hath a Song penned  
in prais of good liqor that's old,  
Drink off your cups round, whilst Music doth sound  
in hope it will keep us from cold,  
And now to conclude my verses so rude,  
you are all welcome Gentlemen:  
Yet ere you depart i'll give a quart,  
for he that made nine, made ten.   

This being said, the reckoning they paid,  
and in friendly manner departed:  
there's none of them had any cause to be sad;  
but all went away merry-hearted.  
And when they do meet, again in the street  
then unto the Tavern thy'l hie:  
And there they intent their money to spend  
which no body can deny    
FINIS.   

London, Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and J. Wight.