YE Sons of Old Crispian, a Saint and a King,
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When taking your Bottle and eating your Ling,
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As merry as Greeks o're a Pint and a Gill,
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With the best of Good-Fellows, honest old Deacon Hill;*
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Remember, that wee're the same Flesh and Blood,
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Tho' we have not a Bitt, and are chawing the Cud.
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For tho' we are young and raw mouth'd Beginners,
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We may live like yourselves, to be old drunken Sinners.
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On this solemn Occasion, after choosing your Deacon;
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You'l Generous prove, the Apprentices rekon;
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For on a Feast-Day, we resolve not to fast
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Tho' we first pawn our Aul, and then hast to our Last.
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When Lads of the Trade in Company mingle,
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Can they Bend-Leather chaw or lick a cold Lingle:
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Encourage the Trade, when your all mett together,
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Refresh our Soles, and wett the Upper-Leather:
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So we humbly request, like kind hearted Men,
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You'l send us a hearty Charity ben:
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And we shall all Pray while our Judgements abides,
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May you never wear Horns, and never want Hides.
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