A Catch
34. Welcome, welcome again to thy wits,
This is a Holy day:
I’le have no plots nor melancholly fits,
But merrily passe the time away:
They are mad that are sad;
Be rul’d, by me,
And none shall be so merry as we;
The Kitchin shall catch cold no more,
And we’l have no key to the Buttery dore,
The fidlers shall sing,
And the house shall ring,
And the world shall see
What a merry couple,
Merry couple,
We will be.
FINIS