Ye frolicksome sparks of the game

Ye frolicksome sparks of the game, Ye misers both wretched and old, Come listen to Isaac by name, Who once had his hatful of gold, With seven score acres of land, Of corn an cattle great store; Tho' now I have none at command, Yet still I am as gay as before. Then why should we quarrel for riches, Or any such glittering toys? A light heart and thin pair of breeches Go thro' the world, brave boys!

My father was clothed in leather, My mother in sheep's russet grey, They labour'd in all sorts of weather, That I might go gallant and gay. My rapier, hat mounted with feather, A heart too as light as a cork! What my old dad had rak'd up together, I spread all abroad with my fork. Then why, &c.

The merchant, who trades on the seas For riches, you very well know, Can never be much at his ease, When blustering tempests do blow. His happiness can be but small, For fear of some terrible news: But he that has nothing at all, Has little or nothing to lose. Then why, &c.

Should they make me a justice of peace, An alderman, sheriff, or may'r, With riches my cares would increase, And drive me quite into despair. I love to be jovial and free, And quite unconcern'd in the state; My mind is a kingdom to me; There's danger in being too great. Then why, &c.

My fortune is pretty well spent, My lands, my cattle, and corn; Yet I am as full of content As ever since I was born. I ne'er will be troubl'd with wealth, My pockets are drain'd very dry; I walk where I please for my health, And ne'er fear wanting, not I. Then why, &c.

Some say that old Care kill'd the cat, And starv'd her for fear she should die; But I will be wiser than that, For the devil a care I'll come nigh; But to toss off the jolly full bowl, To drive away forrow and shife; Here's a health to that honest brave soul Who never took care in his life. Then why, &c.