 | A Collection of Original Poems |  |
195
A Crambo Song on a Tankard.
In company still,
Till each man has a swill,
You have seldom a quip, or a crank heard;
Nay even dull cits,
Will brighten their wits,
With two or three pulls—at a tankard.
Till each man has a swill,
You have seldom a quip, or a crank heard;
Nay even dull cits,
Will brighten their wits,
With two or three pulls—at a tankard.
The beggar who trudges,
All day on his crutches,
Lean, sallow, thin visag'd, and lank hair'd,
Whate'er you may think,
He can relish good drink,
And regale him at night—with a tankard.
All day on his crutches,
Lean, sallow, thin visag'd, and lank hair'd,
Whate'er you may think,
He can relish good drink,
And regale him at night—with a tankard.
The gamester in luck,
Will swig and will suck,
Till he can't tell a king from a blank card;
And mine host, tho' he burst,
Will be ever the first,
To plunge his red nose—in the tankard.
Will swig and will suck,
Till he can't tell a king from a blank card;
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Will be ever the first,
To plunge his red nose—in the tankard.
Were I a Jack Tar,
I would quickly repair,
To the shore, when our vessel was anchor'd;
For no ship in the sea,
Looks so tempting to me,
As a jolly brown toast—in a tankard.
I would quickly repair,
To the shore, when our vessel was anchor'd;
For no ship in the sea,
Looks so tempting to me,
As a jolly brown toast—in a tankard.
Take a lover all sad,
That is stark-staring mad,
And has long after one woman hanker'd,
And I'll hold you five pound,
He shall skip at the sound,
And rejoice at the sight—of a tankard.
That is stark-staring mad,
And has long after one woman hanker'd,
And I'll hold you five pound,
He shall skip at the sound,
And rejoice at the sight—of a tankard.
For his mistress possess'd,
And once freely caress'd,
Has ever one sensible man car'd?
But your topers all say,
Tho' he's drunk ev'ry day,
Will still be found true—to the tankard.
And once freely caress'd,
197
But your topers all say,
Tho' he's drunk ev'ry day,
Will still be found true—to the tankard.
Your Quaker so sleek,
All silent, and meek,
Who never was thought to have drank hard,
Can chatter, and prate,
Look big, and all that,
Like another man—over a tankard.
All silent, and meek,
Who never was thought to have drank hard,
Can chatter, and prate,
Look big, and all that,
Like another man—over a tankard.
Let the copper and tin,
On the dresser be clean,
Black, mouldy, rust-eaten, and canker'd;
All this I can bear,
But, Betty, my dear,
Whatever you do—clean the tankard.
On the dresser be clean,
Black, mouldy, rust-eaten, and canker'd;
All this I can bear,
But, Betty, my dear,
Whatever you do—clean the tankard.
| A Collection of Original Poems | |