57. Good Fellowship.
1
Fill, fill the glass to the brim,
'Tis a health unto him
That refuses
To be curb'd, or disturb'd
At the power of the State,
Or the frowns of his fate;
Or that scorneth to bark or to bite at our Muses:
And that never will vary
From the juyce of the Vine, and the cups of Canary.
2
Drink to your friend, drink away,
For the showers to day
Will replenish
The sweet Vine with rich Wine,
Which the But and the Pipe
Shall receive when 'tis ripe.
Both the white and the red, both the green and the Rhenish;
For we never will vary, &c.
3
Watch, watch his waters, and see
He drink fairly, as he
That begun it:
Fill his Cup, fill it up;
For why should we pinch
Him, or bate him an inch?
'Tis his own ev'ry drop, and he ought not to shun
There's no man shall vary, &c.
4
Mind, mind the work in your hand!
Let the rogues in the land
Not affright us:
Hang the sons and the guns
Of proud Mars, though we hear
His rebounds in our ear;
Yet he neither can hurt us, disturb us, or bite us,
Nor force us to vary, &c.
5
Let them wrangle and jar,
They are Pillars of War
And contention:
But we'l stay all the day
In the Tavern, and find
More delight in our Wine
Then the Chymist can draw from the rarest invention.
And we never will vary
From the juyce of the Vine, or the cups of Canary.
