  Neighbours I’m come for to tell ye, our skipper and Moll’s to be wed, And if it be true what they’re saying, egad we’ll be all rarely fed; They’ve brought home a shoulder of mutton, besides two thumping fat geese, And when at the fire they’re roasting, we’re all to have sops in the grease. Blind Willy’s to play on the fiddle. And there’ll be pies and spice dumplings, and there’ll be bacon and peas; Besides a great lump of beef boiled, and they may get crowdies who please: To eat such good things as these are, I’m sure ye’ve but seldom the luck; Beside, for to make us some pottage, there’ll be a sheep’s head and a pluck. Blind Willy’s to play on the fiddle. Of sausages there’ll be plenty, black puddings, sheep fat, and neats’ tripes; Besides, for to warm all your noses, great store of tobacco and pipes: A room, they say, there’s provided for us at “The Old Jacob’s Well;” The bridegroom he went there this morning, and spoke for a barrel o’ yell. Blind Willy’s to play on the fiddle. There’s sure to be those things I’ve mention’d, and many things else, and I learn, White bread and butter and sugar, there’s to please every bonny young bairn: Of each dish and glass you’ll be welcome to eat and to drink ’till you stare; I’ve told you what meat’s to be at it, I’ll tell you next who’s to be there. Blind Willy’s to play on the fiddle. Why there’ll be Peter the hangman, who flogs folks at the cart tail, And Bob, with his new sark and ruffle, made out of an old keel sail! And Tib on the Quay, who sells oysters, whose mother oft strove to persuade, To keep her from the lads, but she would’nt, untill she got by them betray’d. Blind Willy’s to play on the fiddle. And there’ll be Sandy the cobler, whose belly’s as round as a cag, And Doll, with her short petticoats, to display her white stockings and leg; And Sall, who when snug in a corner, a sixpence they say won’t refuse, She curs’d when her father was drown’d, because he had on his new shoes. Blind Willy’s to play on the fiddle. And there’ll be Sam the quack doctor, of skill and profession he’ll crack; And Jack who would fain be a soldier, but for a great hump on his back; And Tom in the streets for his living, who grinds razors, scissars, and knives; And two or three merry old women, that calls, “Mugs and dublers, wives.” Blind Willy’s to play on the fiddle. But neighbours, I’d almost forgot, for to tell ye exactly at one, The dinner will be on the table, and music will play ’till its done: When you’ll be all heartily welcome, of this merry feast for to share, But if you won’t come at this bidding, why then you may stay where you are. Blind Willy’s to play on the fiddle. |
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