Chorus

Then drink, brave gentlemen, drink with me To the Lincolnshire saint by the old North Sea. A glass and a toast and a song and a rhyme To the barefooted saint of the olden time.

As he journeyed along on the king's highway He gave all the boys and the girls "Good-day," And never a child saw the hood and gown But ran to the father of Botolph's Town. He'd a word for the wicked, and he called them kin, And he said, "I am certain that there must be sin While a few get the loaves and many get the crumbs, And some are born fingers and some born thumbs."