The Drunkard’s Song Poem by John Hartley

Tho' the sober shake the head,
And drink water, boys, instead,
And the foolish all strong liquors do decry;
Yet the foaming glass for me,
May we never, never see
A friend without a draught when dry.

Then quaff, boys, quaff, and let's be merry;
Why should dull care be crowned a king?
Let us have another drain, till the night begins to wane,
And the bonny, bonny morn peeps in.

Let us drown each selfish soul
Deep in the flowing bowl;
Let the rosy god of wine take the throne;
And he who cannot boast
Some good humour in his toast,
Let him wander in the world alone.
Then quaff, boys, &c.

O, I love a jolly face,
And I love a pretty lass,
And I love to see the young and old around;
Then with frolic and with fun
Let both wine and moments run,
And the hearty, hearty laugh resound.
Then quaff, boys, &c.

When man was placed on earth
He was naked at his birth,
But God a robe of reason round him threw;
First he learned to blow his nose,
Then he learned to make his clothes,
And then he learned to bake and brew.
Then, quaff, boys, &c.

If it's wrong to press the vine--
Thus to make the rosy wine,
Then it must be wrong to crush the wheaten grain;
But we'll laugh such things to scorn,
And although it's coming morn,
Just join me in another drain.
Then quaff, boys, &c.