The Syren: Part III. Anacreontic & Jovial Songs, Song

Poh! pox o' this nonsense, I pr'ythee give o'er, And talk of your Phyllis and Chloe no more; Their face, and their air, and their mien; what a rout! Here's to thee, my good lad, push the bottle about.

Let finical fops play the fool and the ape, They dare not confide in the juice of the grape; But we honest fellows—'sdeath! who'd ever think Of puling for love, while he is able to drink?

'Tis wine, only wine, that true pleasure bestows; Our joys it increases, and lightens our woes; Remember what topers of old us'd to sing, The man that is drunk is as great as a king.

If Cupid assaults you, there's law for his tricks; Anacreon's Cases see, page twenty-six: The precedent's glorious, and just, by my soul; Lay hold on and drown the young dog in a bowl.

What's life but a frolic, a song, and a laugh? My toast shall be this, whilst I've liquor to quaff; "May mirth and good fellowship always abound?" Boys, fill up a bumper, and let it go round.