The Word That Originally Meant a Pot of Drink (Tosspot)

Lyrics

[Intro]
Just the one tonight. 
Or so I say. 
There’s a word for this feeling. 
A good, heavy word. 
Made of pewter, I think. 
Dented.

[Verse 1]
It was born around 1568. 
Before the Bard even gave it a stage. 
It wasn’t a man, not yet. 
It was an action. 
A verb you could hold in your hand.
To toss the pot back. 
The whole weight of it, ale and all. 
The slam of it on the oak table in Southwark. 
That was the meaning. The whole thing.

[Chorus]
So you can call me a tosspot. 
Go on. 
I’ve earned the name of the vessel I empty. 
I am the pot and the tossing both. 
Yeah. Call me a tosspot. 
It fits.

[Verse 2]
Then Sir Toby Belch, bless his drunken heart, 
he took it and threw it like a dart. 
Across the stage at the Globe, or near enough. 
Aimed it at that puritan, Malvolio. 
Twelfth Night, you see. 
He called him a tosspot. 
And suddenly, the word wasn't the action anymore. 
It was the man who couldn't stop doing it.

[Chorus]
So go on, call me a tosspot. 
I don’t mind. 
I’ve earned the name of the vessel I’m becoming. 
I am the pot and the tossing both. 
Yeah. Call me a tosspot. 
It fits me just right.

[Bridge]
They say in old Yorkshire, the word could mean the pot itself. 
If it was big enough. Unwieldy. 
A thing that embodied the whole sorry business. 
I feel that in my bones. 
This container, full of memory and sack and cheap ale. 
This old pot. 
Ready for one more toss.

[Outro]
Just the one. 
That’s what I said. 
Lifting the pewter to my lips. 
Heavy. 
Tosspot.