I's not come here to tauke of _Prute_, [83.] From whence the _Welse_ does take her Root; Nor tell long Pedigree of Prince _Camber_, Whose Linage would fill full a Shamber; Nor sing the Deeds of old Saint _Davy_, The Ursip of which would fill a Navy; But hark ye now for a liddel Tales Sal make great deal to the Credit of _Wales_: For hur will tudge your Ears, With the Praise of hur Thirteen Seeres, And make you as Clad and Merry, As Fourteen Pot of Perry. 'Tis true was wear him _Shirkin Frieze_, But what is that? we have store of Sheize; And Got is plenty of Coates Milk, That sell him well, will buy him silk Enough to make him fine to Quarrel, At _Hereford Sizes_ in new _Apparel_. And get him as much Melmet perhap Sall give it a Face to his _Monmouth Cap_. But then the Ore of _Lemster_, By Cot is Uver a Sempster; That when he is Spun or Did Yet match him with her Thrid. [Illustration] And this the Backs now, let us tell ye Of some Provisions for the Belly; As _Cid_ and _Gote_ and great _Gote's Mother_, And _Runt_ and _Cow_ and great _Cow's Uther_: And once but taste on the _Welse Mutton_, Your _Engliss Seeps_ not worth a Button; Then for your _Fisse_, shall shoose it your Dish, Look but about, and there's a _Trout_, A Salmon, Cor or Chevin, Will feed you Six or Seven, As taull Men as e'er Swagger With _Welse Club_ and long _Dagger_. But all this while was never think A word in praise of our _Welse_ Drink; Yet for aull that, is a Cup of _Bragat_, Aull _England_ Seer may cast his Cap at; And what you say to _Ale_ of _Webley_, Toudge him as well, you'll praise him Trebley. As well as _Metheglin_, or _Sider_, or _Meath_ Sall sake it your Dagger quite out o' the Seath. And _Oate Cake_ of _Guarthenion_, With a goodly Leek or Onion, To give as sweet a rellis, As e'er did Harper _Ellis_. And yet is nothing now all this, If of our Musicks we do miss; With _Harp_ and _Pipes_ too and the _Croud_ Must aull come in and tauk aloud. As loud as _Bangu_, _Davy's_ Bell, Of which is no doubt you have hear tell, As well as our louder _Wrexam_ Organ, Or rumbling Rocks in the Seer of _Glamorgan_, Where look you but in the Ground here, And you sall see a Sound there, That put her all togedder, Is sweet as Measure Pedder.