Come, landlord, fill the flowing bowl Until it doth run over For tonight we'll merry be Tomorrow we'll be sober The man that drinketh small beer And goes to be quite sober Fades as the leaves do fade That drop of in October A man who drinketh strong beer And goes to bed quite mellow Lives as he ought to live And dies a jolly good fellow But he who drinks just what he likes And getteth half seas over Will live until he die perhaps And then lie down in clover
	But he who kisses a pretty girl And does and tell his mother Ought to have his lips cut off And never kiss another