There battails
and sea-fights are fought,
And bloudy plots displaid;
They know more things than e'er was thought,
Or ever was bewray'd:
No money in the minting-house
Is half so bright and new;
And coming from the Coffee-House,
It cannot but be true.
Before the navies fell to work,
They knew who should be winner;
They there can tell ye what the Turk
Last Sunday had to dinner.
Who last did cut Du Ruiter's corns,
Amongst his jovial crew;
Or who first gave the devil horns,
Which cannot but be true.
A fisherman did boldly tell,
And strongly did avouch,
He caught a shole of mackerell,
They parley'd all in Dutch;
and cry'd out, Yaw, yaw, yaw, mine hare,
And as the draught they drew,
They stunk for fear that Monk was there:
This sounds as if 'twere true.
There's nothing done in all the world,
From monarch to the mouse;
But every day or night 'tis hurl'd
Into the coffee-house.