A plague on all musty old lubbers

A plague on those musty old lubbers Who tell us to fast and to think, And patiently bear with life's rubbers, With nothing but water to drink; A can of good stuff had they swigged it, Would soon ay have set them agog; 3In spite of the rules 3Of the schools, 3The old fools 2Would have constantly swigg'd it, And sworn there was nothing like grog

Then trust me there's nothing like drinking, So pleasant on this side the grave, It keeps the unhappy from thinking, And makes e'en more valiant the brave As for me, since the moment I swigg'd it, The good stuff has so set me agog, 3That sick or well, late or early, 3Wind foully or fairly, 2I’ve constantly swigg'd it. And dem'me there’s nothing like grog.