A Song, pp.6-7.

[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]

LEt’s be jovial, fill our glasses, 

Madness ‘tis for us to think, 

How the warld is rul’d by asses, 

And the wise are sway’d by chink. 

Fa, la, ra, &c. 


Then never let vain cares oppress us, 

Riches are to them a snare; 

We’re ev’ry one as rich as Crœsus

While our bottle drowns our care, 

Fa, la, ra, &c. 


Wine will make us red as roses, 

And our Sorrows quite forget; 

Come, let us fuddle all our noses. 

Drink our selves quite out of debr. 

Fa, la, ra, &c. 


When grim death is looking for us, 

We are toping at our bowls, 

Bacchus joining in the chorus: 

Death, be gone, here’s none but souls. 

Fa, la, ra, &c. 


Godlike Bacchus thus commanding, 

Trembling death away shall fly, 

Ever after understanding 

Drinking souls can never dy. 

Fa, la, ra, &c. 

Authors Unknown

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