* * * * * Now I thinke it is fit, and most requisit, to drinke a health to our wives, The which being done, wee’le pay and be gone, strong drinke all our wits now deprives: Then Hostesse lets know, the summe that we owe, twelve pence there is for certaine, Then fill t’other pot, and here’s money for’t, for he that made twelve made thirteen.” The poet was probably at a loss for a word to rhyme with fourteen, or the ballad would have been longer. [63] The “he that made” is probably the brewer. The numbers increase by ones in the last line of each verse, the last verse reaching thirteen. Another song of much the same character is _Monday’s Work_, the work being no work at all, but a day spent at the alehouse. The only known copy of this ballad is in the _Roxburghe Collection_. The author is unknown. MONDAYS WORK or The Two honest neighbours both birds of a feather Who are at the Alehouse both merry together. To the tune of _I owe my Hostesse Money_. [Illustration] {327} Good morow neighbour Gamble Come let you and I goe ramble, Last night I was shot, Through the braines with a pot and now my stomach doth wamble; Your Possets and your Caudles, Are fit for babies in Cradles; A piece of salt Hogge, And a haire of the old Dogge is good to cure our drunken Noddles. Come hither mine host, come hither, Here’s two birds of a feather, Come hither my host With a pot and a tost, and let us be merry together. I rose in the morning early, To take this juice of barly, But if my wife Jone, Knew where I were gone, shee’d call me to a Parley. My bones I do not fauour, But honestly doe labour: But when I am out I must make a mad bout come here’s halfe a pot to thee neighbour. Come hither, &c. Gramarcy, neighbour Jinkin, I see thou louest no shrinking, And I for my part From thee will not start, come fill us a little more drinke in. I’th weeke we aske but one day, And that’s next after Sunday Our custome wee’le hold Although our Wiues scold the Maultman comes a Monday. Come hither, &c. Come let us haue our Liquor about us Mine host does not misdoubt us, {328} Yet if we should call, And pay none at all, you were better be without us: But we are no such fellowes, Though some in clothes excell us And yet haue no coyne For Liquor to joyne yet we haue both whites and yellowes. Come hither, &c. * * * * * There is a second part to this song, which ends with the words:— Now lest our wiues should find us ’Tis fit we should look behind us Let’s see what is done Then pay and begone, as honesty hath assigned us. ’Tis strong ale I conceiue it ’Tis good in time to leaue it Or else it will make Our foreheads to ake, ’tis vanity to outbraue it. Come hither, &c.