From The Wanderings of a Pen and Pencil by F. P. Palmer, Alfred Crowquill (London: Jeremiah How, 1846), page 111:

The old face of a rustic employed upon the land, which I recognised through the faint light of the wood fire, in the common kitchen, reminded me of his favourite songs—songs of harvest suppers, which are original, and one of which may entertain curious persons interested in such affairs generally.

"Here's a health to the jolly wood-cutt-er,
That sits at home at his ease;
He does his work by the sleight of his hand,
And he leaves off, when he please,
For he takes a withy and he winds it,
And he lays it on the ground;
And round the faggots he binds it,
So drink round! my boys! drink round!
Drink round—my boys! drink round! for the sooner it will come to me—
And the longer we stay here, brave boys! the merrier we shall be." (bis.)

During the chanting of this ditty, to a very agreeable tune, the black cans are filled, and the words "drink round" are honoured by the "brave boys" in capital time, and they make the "jolly wood-cutt-er" a plausible excuse for the repetition of the song by the next in the circle; and thus, until they are wearied, or "cried down" by magisterial proclamation.