Classic Poem

1

Hold, Quaff no more,
But restore
(If ye can) what y'have lost by your Drinking,
Three Kingdoms and Crowns
With their Cities and Towns,
Whilest a King and his Progenie's sinking;
The Studs in your Cheeks have obscured his Star Boys,
Your Drink and Miscarriages in the late War, Boys,
Hath brought his Prerogative so to the Bar Boys.

2

Throw down the Glass,
He's an Ass
That extracts all his worth from Canary,
That Valour will shrink
Which is onely good in Drink,
'Twas the Cup made the Camp to miscarry;
You thought (in the World) there was no Power could tame ye,
You tippl'd and whor'd till the Foe overcame ye,
Cuds Nigs and Nere-stir-Sir , hath vanquish'd God Damme

3

Fly from the Coast,
Or you are lost,
And the Water will run where the Drink went;
From hence ye must slink,
If you swear and have no Chink,
'Tis the Curse of a royall Delinquent;
You love to see Beer-bowls turn'd over the thumb well,
You like three fair Gamesters, four Dice, and a Drum wel,
But y'had as live see the Devil as Fairfax or Cromwel .

4

Drink not the Round,
You'll be drown'd
In the source of your Sack and your Sonnets,
Try once more your Fate,
For the Kirk against the State,
And go bartar your Beavers for Bonnets;
You see how you are charm'd by your female Enchanters,
And therefore Pack hence to Virginia for Planters,
For an Act and two Red-Coats can rout all the Ranters.