A man, a man, a man
came from London, from London, from London
to the arms of a captain, a captain, a captain…
and it comes now into my mind to observe that I have been a little too free to make mirth, he being a very sober and an upright man.
Gain and ache are the greatest guides.
We lay with women, being pretty handsome.
We went to bed, being somewhat ill,
afterwards disputing for and against
extemporary prayer.
I dispatch a colonel with a pen,
no treaty to commend him.
How quiet he is!
I dine on a great oar, pay
their servant to row
and rest my mouth.
I take leave of trouble
with a dinner of oats,
get one window to the sea
and another to the deck
like a king.
A fair fleet fell into vice.
Frigates did us in, broke,
creeping at the scuttle,
the sea exceeding us
in business and in bed.
Letters came by ox and dove, good as oysters.
After dinner I wrote a great many letters.
After that, I slept, God forgive me!
After that, I walked, talking.
After that I sat.
High, I desire
the writ of the Lord,
answer a judge
with three pints of wine
and take by mistake for supper
a hand with strawberry on it.
I rose early to barber
the moss of the wood,
took a house
in Drury Lane
and ate toasted cakes
which were very crisp.
Packing up, I took leave
of my old axe
and bought a bit of salmon
for the sun.
I promise to give all
that I have to the brave.
I am not discontented
with my sleep.
All things go to sea;
I went to fat.
All things wash to bed,
I cold and coughing.
After talking about going to sea,
after drinking with a butcher and a violin,
after bacon, capons and fritters,
after singing and drinking,
after a dance or two with my lord,
soberly and without fear
I lay awake.
Ill with pleasure ill took,
ill at the Salutation Tavern,
I drank till overcome,
and so see a unicorn
of the king’s hunt
hung in church
again.