Nope, Geoffery Chaucer.
Three fellows wenten into a pubbe,
and gleefully their hands did rubbe,
in expectacion of revelry,
for twas the hour known as happy.
Great bottles of wine did they quaff,
and hadde a really goode laff,
'till drunkenness held full dominion,
for 'twas two for the price of one.
Yet after wine and meade and sack,
man must have a massive snack,
great pasties from Cornwall,
Scottish eggs, round like a ball.
Great hams, quail, duck and geese,
they sucked the bones and drank the grease.
One fellow stood all pale and wan,
for he was a vegiterian.
Yet man knoweth that gluttony stoketh the fire of lechery,
upon three young wenches round and sly the fellows cast a wanton eye,
One did approach with drunken wink,
'allow daaahlin – you fancy a drink?
Soon they court them on their knee – 'twas like some grotesque puppetry,
such was the lewdness and debauchery 'twas like a sketch by Dick Emery,
Except Dick Emery is not yet born,
so that comparison may not be drawn.
But then the fellows began to pale,
for Quale are not the friend of ale,
And in their bellies much confusion,
from their throats, vile extruision!
Stinking foul coruption,
came spewing forth from drooling lips,
the fettid stench did fill the pubbe,
'twas the very arse of Belzibubbe.
Thrown they were, from the Whore and Trumpet,
In the street, no coin, no strumpet,
homeward bound must quickly go,
and to that end, a donkey stole.
Their hands all with vomit greased,
the donkey – was not pleased,
and threw them into a ditch of shite,
they all agreed – "what a brilliant night!"