& when the night draws on each mirthfull lout
The ale house seeks & sets it in a roar
& there while fidlers play they rant about
& call for brimming tankards froathing oer
For 'bacco smoke yed hardly see the door
No stint they make of 'bacco & of beer
While money lasts they shout about for more
Resolvd to keep it merry when its here
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