Now, what do you

say to these cans of wood?

Oh, no, in faith

they cannot be good;

For if the bearer

fall by the way,

Why, on the ground

your liquor doth lay;

But had it been

in a leather bottèl,

Although he had fallen

all had been well.

So I wish in heav'n

his soul may dwell

That first found out

the leather bottèl.

Then what do you say

to these glasses fine?

Oh, they shall have

no praise of mine;

Then what do you say

to these black pots three?

If a man and his wife

should not agree,

Why, they'll tug and pull

till their liquor doth spill;

In a leather bottèl they may

tug their fill,