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THE MEAL TUBB PLOT.
GOod Heraclitus lets have no quarrel,
Sing you of the Tap, i'll sing of the Barrel,
And neither laugh nor cry for the Lawrel.
Which no Body can deny.
A Fig for your Tap or your Cork. Do but bring here
A barrel of empty Reports, (Mr. Singer)
You shall see we can broach them with a wet Finger.
Which no body, &c.
I'll not meddle with Barrels of Ale and Bear,
For should they work again, we may fear
Too quick a return o'th' Platonick Tear.
Which no Body, &c.
A Pox of your Barrels full of French,
'Tis a sort of an ominous Bloody Drench,
And full of dispute as an Oyster Wench.
Which no Body, &c.