 | The choice spirits feast |  |
SONG.
Come my Bucks, let to-night be devoted to drinking,
To-morrow's too soon to be troubled with thinking.
No more shall Time preach, nor no more shall we hear it,
For he's drown'd as he ought in a Hogshead of Claret.
To-morrow's too soon to be troubled with thinking.
No more shall Time preach, nor no more shall we hear it,
For he's drown'd as he ought in a Hogshead of Claret.
Now Time is no more, or no more can forbid us,
Of that troublesome Guest a Choice Spirit has rid us;
Yet if Time shou'd be wanting for any Design,
Henceforth he is found in a Hogshead of Wine.
Of that troublesome Guest a Choice Spirit has rid us;
Yet if Time shou'd be wanting for any Design,
Henceforth he is found in a Hogshead of Wine.
Since Time is confin'd to our Wine let us think
By this Rule we are sure of our time when we drink.
Come, my Bucks, let your Glasses with Bumpers be prim'd,
Now we're certain our Drinking is always well tim'd.
By this Rule we are sure of our time when we drink.
Come, my Bucks, let your Glasses with Bumpers be prim'd,
Now we're certain our Drinking is always well tim'd.
| The choice spirits feast | |