A Bacchanal

Bacchus, God of mortal pleasure,
Ever give me of thy treasure.
How I long for t' other quart,
Ring and call the drowsy waiter
Hither since it is no later,
Why should good companions part.

Whip a shilling he that's willing,
Follow this example round.
If you'd wear a lib'ral spirit,
Put about the generous claret,
After death's no smiling found.
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