Page:Sweet barley mow, or, Ragged and true.pdf/2

( 2 ) THE SWEET BARLEY MOW; OR, RAGGED and TRUE.

I Will ſing you a ſong of myſelf,

and ſo give the Devil his due,

I ne’er ſhall be hanged for wealth.

and as for my clothes they’re but few.

My clothes are all gone without-doubt,

to the joys of the ſweet Barley-mow,

My pence they’re worn down to nothing,

brave boys, tho’ I’m ragged I’m true.

My clothes are all ſcratches and patches,

you may ſee if you earneſtly look;

My clothes are all ſcratches and patches,

much like to a falſe written book:

But ſcratched and patched, I'll wear it,

until l can paint it with new,

For drinking I’ll challenge the nation,

brave boys, tho' I’m ragged, I’m true.

Come fill us a pot of good liquor,

we’ll drink to our creditors all;

We’ll pay them when times they grow better,

and landlords come at the firſt call;

And if they will take no denial,

but run like a hare in full view,

I will give them the ſtart upon trial,

brave boys, tho’ I’m ragged, I’m true.