Classic Poem

If Sorrow, the tyrant, invade the breast,
Haul out the foul fiend by the lug, the lug!
Let no thought of the morrow disturb your'rest,
But banish despair in a mug, a mug!

Or if business, unluckily, goes not well,
Let the fond fools their affections hug;
To show our allegiance we'll go to " The Bell, "
And banish despair in a mug, a mug!

Or if thy wife prove none of the best,
Or admits no time but to think, to think,
Or the weight of the horns bow down thy crest,
Divert the dull Demon with drink, with drink!

Or if thy mistress proves unworthy to thee,
Ne'er pine, ne'er pine at the wanton pug;
But choose out a fairer and kinder than she,
And banish despair in a mug, a mug!

From thee such pleasant joys, liquor, does flow,
Which cures the distemper of heart and mind;
Our wits, O, then more riper do grow,
By perfect experience the same we find.

Then he is an ass that seems to despair
At any coy frown of the wanton pug;
Be merry and jolly, and drown all thy care
For ever and aye in a mug, a mug!

As for the liquor, the juice of the grape
Which often does into men's noddles creep,
And sometimes it makes them as wise as an ape,
And sometimes it lays, like stocks, to sleep.

But whilst we are more sober and civil than they,
Like brothers together in friendship hug,
And ever account it our duty to pay
A worthy respect to the mug, the mug!

As for the spirit and juice of malt,
It ripens the fancy of men enough,
And he is an ass that pretends to find fault
With English because of their potent talk.

There's nothing more choice in all our land,
To make a young gallant both brisk and smug,
And therefore no longer disputing we'll stand,
But ever admire the mug, the mug!