The Three Drinkers
Blacksmith Green had three strong sons,
With bread and beef did fill 'em,
Now John and Ned are perished and dead,
But plenty remains of William.
John Green was a whiskey drinker,
The Land of Cakes supplied him,
Till at last his soul flew out by the hole
That the fierce drink burned inside him.
Ned Green was a water drinker,
And, Lord, how Ned would fuddle!
He rotted away his mortal clay
Like an old boot thrown in a puddle.
Will Green was a wise young drinker,
Shrank from whiskey or water,
But he made good cheer with headstrong beer,
And married an alderman's daughter.
But there was a fourth souse
Worse than the other three
He snapped the necks of John and Ned
And he'll come for big Billie.
He took the soul, from J. Green's hole
As it spun out, burned with fat,
He took it maddened as it was
And turned it to a bat.
He took the rotted corpse of N.
To drive his great black coach
With head askew, on a body new
in the form of a great cockroach.
Will Green, well his fates coming
Though to good beer he's no stranger.
For the Aldeman's daughter's a Harker by blood
And a vampire, *is* a danger.