_Chorus_.

Then who can name
So merry a game
As the game of all games--high-toby?

III

Believe me, there is not a game, my brave boys,
To compare with the game of high-toby;
No rapture can equal the tobyman's joys, [9]
To blue devils, blue plumbs give the go-by; [10]
And what if, at length, boys, he come to the crap! [11]
Even rack punch has _some_ bitter in it,
For the mare-with-three-legs, boys, I care not a rap, [12]
'Twill be over in less than a minute!

_Chorus_.

Then hip, hurrah!
Fling care away!
Hurrah for the game of high-toby!


[1: the moon]
[2: light]
[3: highwayman]
[4: black horse]
[5: sword; pistols]