The Turks, who arriv'd from the Port Sublime, They told us that drinking was held a great crime; Yet after their dinner, away they flunk, And tippled their wine, 'till they got quite drunk. The Sultan and Crommet, And even Mahomet, They all take a sup in their turn. The Quakers will bid you from drink abstain,' And Solomon's Lady, Would all take a fup in their turn.“ The Germans will fay they can drink the most, Will drink till he's mellow, And take off his glass in his turn. IF THE TREASUR'D GOLD COULD GIVE. IF the treafur'd gold could give, Man a longer term to live, I'd employ my utmost care, Still to keep and ftill to spare, But fince riches cannot fave, Give me freely while I live, Friends fincere and beauty kind. THE PROPHETS. IN the first book of Job, which I now mean to quote, At the fifth and fixth verfes you'll find it thus wrote: "So Mofes invited fome prophets to dine, "And drink a few bottles of gooseberry wine." Derry down, down, down derry, down! Then Mofes was plac'd in a chair in a trice, When the glass moving quick, and the wine being strong, Some look'd afkew, Sir, at first Mofes faw, (But whate'er Moses said, why you know, Sir, was law:) Nay he frankly declar'd, that fhould any decline, He would fine them a bumper of goofeberry wine. Little David, it seems, Sir, first was the choice, For they very well knew he'd an excellent voice; Rear-Admiral Noah, who much has been faid of, And his jaunt on the water, which we have all read of, Not liking thin gooseberry, call'd for a dram, And then gave them the fong which he fung to young Ham Noah's Song-Tune, Heaving of the Lead And bearing up to gain the port, Some well-known object had in view; An abbey tow'r, or harbour fort, Ezekiel rofe next, Sir, a very great fmoaker, But in lighting his pipe, burnt his nofe with the poker; Ezekiel's Song-Tune, Knibb's Pound, Why Mofes, why Aaron, my boys, He is fond of a drop of good beer; Why say such are your purpose and ends. And d-n me but we'll have a good 'bout, For I love a good pot with my friends. Then Solomon rofe, Sir, all in his glory, But the cry against that was a great deal too strong, For they would have nothing but "Solomon's Song." Solomon's Song. I've kifs'd and I've prattl'd with fifty fair maids, But of all the fair damfels that dance on the green, Next Habakkuk rofe, for they took them in courfe, Jeremiah rofe next, Sir, at Mofes' defire, Jeremiab's Song- Tune, Queen Mary's Lamentation, Thefe walls can but echo my moan: Alas! it increases my pain, When I think of the days that are gone. I cry, and exclaim out, ah, me! I once could play better than they. Then up rofe little Jonah, who look'd like a jelly, Jonah's Song Ceafe rude Boreas, blustering railer; · Lift ye land men all to me; Meffmates, hear a brother failor Sing the dangers of the fea |