University of Virginia Library

When ladies drink, we sneering say,
Or point in pantomimic way,
Upon my soul, she's rather gay,
Indeed she's mighty muddled:
When bucks are bub'd, they're in the sun,
So keep it up, for I loves fun,
And when a husband up is done,
The wife cries, “Deary's fuddled.”

(Speaking).
Now, my wife's one of the cleverest men in our parish—she always makes her mutton pies of beef steaks; and she will have it, that the shortest day is too long by a yard and a half; but I am so doatingly fond of her, if she long'd for arsenic, I'd go ten miles but she shou'd have it.

Tipsey, dizzy, &c.