Classic Poem

Hang sorrow, cast away care,
Come let us drink up our Sack;
They say it is good,
To cherish the blood,
And eke to strengthen the back;
'Tis wine that makes the thoughts aspire,
And fills the body with heat,
Beside 'tis good
If well understood
To fit a man for the Feat:
Then call,
And drink up all,
The Drawer is ready to fill,
A pox of care
What need we to spare,
My Father hath made his Will.