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224 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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No more shall occasion such sighs and such groans;
For what mortal's so stupid
As not to quit Cupid, When called to good claret, and bumpers, Squire Jones ? |
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Ye poets who write, • And brag of your drinking famed Helicon's brook,—
Though all you get by it
Is a dinner ofttimes,
In reward for your rhymes, With Humphry the Duke,—
Learn Bacchus to follow,
And quit your Apollo, Forsake all the Muses, those senseless old crones:
Our jingling of glasses
Your rhyming surpasses When crowned with good claret, and bumpers, Squire Jones. |
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Ye soldiers so stout, With plenty of oaths, though no plenty of coin,
Who make such a rout
Of allyour commanders,
Who served us in Flanders, And eke at the Boyne,—
Come leave off your rattling
Of sieging and battling, And know you'd much better to sleep in whole bones;
Were you sent to Gibraltar,
Your notes you'd soon alter, And wish for good claret, and bumpers, Squire Jones. |
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