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A

PITCHER fill'd with nappy ale,
   Old lodge and Roaf did hide

Within a hole i'th' kitchen wall,
   And thought no mortal spy'd.

Arch Toby, seemingly asleep,
   Saw what the carles had done ;
And to the place did softly creep,
   As soon as they were gone.

He found the tap most excellent,
   And fell to't tooth and nail:
He drank till he was nearly spent,
   And found his strength to fail.

So he another pitcher got,
   And off he took the rest;
And left its likeness in the spot,
   Which prov'd the cream o'th' jest.

For Hodge and Roaf had got their cheese,
   And went to fetch the ale
But only found a pint o'th' lees
   That purl'd from Toby's tail.

Finding but little left behind :
   Old lodge would have his half :
He drank — but pick'd it up we find,
   And left it all for loaf.