Three fellowes wenten into a pubben And gleefully theyr hands did rubben In expectation of revelleree For it is the hour that is happee. Great botles of wyne did they quaffe An hadde a reely goode laff 'Til drunkeness helde ful dominion Fore it was two fore the price of onenen. And after wyne and mead and sacke The did muste haff a massif snacke; Great pasties from Cornwalle, Great Scotiische egges, lyke a balle, Great hams, quayls, duck and gees They sucked the bonnes and dranke the grees And one fellowe stood alle pale and wan For he was a vegitarian. Yet manne knoweth the gluttonee Stoketh the fyre of lecheree Upon three yung wenches rounde and slye The fellowes caste a wanton eye One did approch with drunken winke 'Hello luv, fancee a drinke?' Soone they caughte theme on theyr nees It was lyke grislee puppetree Such was the loodnes and debacheree It was lyke a sketche by Dick Emeree (Excepte Dick Emeree is not yett borne So comparison maye nott be drawne.) Then the fellowes began to pale For quayl are not the frend off ale And inn theyr bellyes much confutionn Fromm theyr throtes vyle extrutionns Stynkyng foul corruptionn Came spewing forth from drooling lippes The fetidd stenche didd fyll the pubbe It wass the arse of beelzebubbe. Throwne they wer from 'Horne and Trumpete' Uponn the street no coyne no strumpette Homeward bounde they mustt quikly go To thatt ende a donkey stole Their handes all with vomyt greesed The donkey it was nott pleesed And threwe them in a ditche of shite They all agreede 'Whatt a brylliante night!