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And may it on my tomb be told
(I cannot think 'twould be a sin) Engraved at length in words of gold, The rogue he loved a glass of gin!!”
Derry down, &c.
THE LADIES' DRINKING SONG. Let topers drain the Aowing bowl,
And tipsy get for me;
So I've a bowl of tea;
And stir up mirth and glee;
A smoking cup of tea.
With characters make free,
What oils so well as tea?
Noyeau or ratifie,
As qualifying tea?
This beverage we see;
The bitters are the tea;
And while they thus agree,
That life corrects and tea.
Pomp, pride, and pedigree, We find distinctions every day
Levelled by death and tea;
From gipsies underneath the hedge
To the grand coterie;
In bowls of social tea.
A JOLLY FAT FRIAK.
And he had drank stoutly at supper;
And sat with his face to the crupper. “ Some rogue," quoth the friar, “ quite dead to re
Which went gluggity, gluggity, glug.
'Twas the friar's road home, straight and level; But when spurred, a horse follows his nose, not tail,
So he scampered due north like the devil. “ This new mode of docking,” the fat friar said,
" I perceive does not make a horse trot ill; And 'tis cheap, for he never can eat off his head, While I ain engaged with the bottle.”
Which goes gluggity, gluggity, glug. The steed made a stop, in the pond he had got;
He was rather for drinking than grazing; Quoth the friar,“tis strange headless horses should
But to drink with their tails is amazing!" Turning round to find whence this phenomenon rose,
In the pond fell this son of a pottle; Quoth he, “ the head's found, for I'm under his nose, But I'd rather been over the bottle.”
Which goes gluggity, gluggity, glug.
DRINK TO THEE, SON OF GREAT JOVE.
HERE, Bacchus, here's to thee!
With pleasure I view thee,
Thy doxies, so tempting,
Wine sparkling, fermenting,
Tis a glorious thing,
Then here, till I'm tipsy,
To thee and each gipsy,
His wine-his wine;
My cup it is empty!
Come, let us have plenty; · Thy Thyrsis will set the rocks flowing;
Our spirits beat quicker,
When warmed by the liquor,
Then let us delight in,
The dear bliss inviting,
Or reach mouth with his hand,
Son of great Jove !-son of great Jove!
THE MERRY WIDOW. THERE was a merry widow, and she was very fat, She had a heavy purse, and she wa’n’t the worse for
that; She was blind of one eye, and she squinted with the
other; She had a wooden leg which hobbled with its brother,
Going hopperty, kickerty, bow, wow, wow,
Oh, beware of love! beware of love! She cocked her squinţing eye at me, I thought her
nought averse; I cast at her, too, one sheep's eye, another at her
purse; Then I asked her for her hand, truly thinking I had
won her; But she gave me her wooden foot plump in the seat of honor.
Going hopperty, &c. I persevered and won her, and bore my prize away; But oh! she died of drinking upon the wedding-day; I came in for her thumping purse, just like a hive of
honey, But I had all her debts to pay, and that boned all my . money.
Going hopperty, &c., , mmmm
And the maiden he loved was as pure as the snow,