Through Royal Exchange as I walked,
Where gents in satin did shine,
At midst of the day they parted away,
At several places to dine.

The gentry went to The King’s Head,
The nobles unto The Crown,
The Knights unto the Golden Fleece,
And the ploughmen to The Clown.

The clergy will dine at The Mitre,
The vintners’ at The Three Tuns,
The usurers’ to the Devil will go,
And the Friars unto The Nuns!

The Ladies will dine at The Feathers,
The Globe no captain will scorn,
The huntsman will go to The Greyhound below,
And some townsmen to The Horn.

The plumber will dine at The Fountain,
The cooks at The Holy Lamb,
The drunkards at noon to The Man in the Moon,
And the cuckolds to The Ram.

The roarers will dine at The Lion,
The watermen at The Old Swan,
The bawds will to The Negro goe,
And the whores to The Naked Man.

The keepers will to The White Hart,
The mariners unto The Ship,
The beggars they must take their way
To The Eggshell, and the Whip.

The farriers will to The Horse,
The blacksmiths unto The Lock,
The butchers to The Pull will go,
And the carmen to Bridewell Dock.

The fishmongers unto The Dolphin,
The bakers to The Cheap Loaf,
The turners unto The Ladle will go,
Where they may merrily quaff.

The tailor will dine at The Shoe,
The shoemakers will to The Boot,
The Welshmen, they will take their way,
And dine at the sign of The Goat.
The hosiers will dine at The Leg,
The drapers at the sign of The Brush,
The fletchers to Robin Hood will go,
And the spendthrifts to Beggars’ Bush.

The pewterers will to The Quart Pot,
The coopers will dine at The Hoop,
The cobblers to The Last will go,
And the bargemen to The Scoop.

The carpenters will dine at The Axe,
The colliers will dine at The Sack,
Your fewterer, he to The Cherry Tree,
Good fellows, no liquor will lack.

The goldsmiths to The Three Cups,
Their money they count as dross,
Your puritan to The Pewter Can,
And your papist to The Cross.

The weavers will dine at The Shuttle,
The glovers will unto The Glove,
The maidens’ all to The Maidenhead,
And true-lovers unto The Dove.

The saddlers will dine at The Saddle,
The painters to The Green Dragon,
The Dutchman will go to the sign of The Vrouw,
Where each man may drink his flagon.

The chandlers will dine at The Scales,
The salters the sign of The Bag,
The porters take pain at The Labour in Vain,
And the horse-coursers at The White Nag.

Thus every man in his humour,
From North unto the South,
But he that hath no money in his purse,
May dine at the sign of The Mouth.

The swaggerers may dine at The Fencer,
But those that have lost their wits,
With Bedlam Tom let there be their home,
And The Drum the drummers best fit.

The cheater will dine at The Chequer,
The pickpocket at The Blind Alehouse,
Till taken and tried, up Holborn they ride,
And make their end at The Gallows.