GOOD roaring pistol-boys, brave lads of gold, br Good roistering easy maids, blown cock-a-hoop br On floods of tavern-steam, I greet you! Drunk br With wild Canary, drowned in wines of old, br I'll swear your round, red faces dive and swim br Like clouds of fire-fish in a waxen tide, br And these are seas of smoke we thieves behold. br Yet I've a mind I know what arms enchain br With flesh my shoulders . . . aye, and what warm legs br Wind quickly into mine . . . 'tis no pale mermaid, br No water-wench that floats in a smoky main br Betwixt the tankard and my knees . . . in faith, br I know thee, Joan, and by the beard of God, br I'll prove to-night thy mortal parts again! br Leap, leap, fair vagabonds, your lives are short . . .