The Poetical Works of Robert Burns/The big-bellied Bottle
For other versions of this work, see The Big-bellied Bottle.
THE BIG-BELLIED BOTTLE.
TUNE—'PREPARE, MY DEAR BRETHREN, TO THE TAVERN LET'S FLY.'
No churchman am I for to rail and to write,No statesman nor soldier to plot or to fight,No sly man of business contriving a snare,For a big-belly'd bottle's the whole of my care.
The peer I don't envy, I give him his bow;I scorn not the peasant, tho' ever so low;But a club of good fellows, like those that are there,And a bottle like this, are my glory and care.
Here passes the squire on his brother—his horse;There centum per centum, the cit with his purse;But see you the Crown how it waves in the air,There a big-belly'd bottle still eases my care.
The wife of my bosom, alas! she did die;For sweet consolation to church I did fly;I found that old Solomon proved it fair,That the big-belly'd bottle's a cure for all care.
I once was persuaded a venture to make;A letter inform'd me that all was to wreck;But the pursy old landlord just waddled up stairs,With a glorious bottle that ended my cares.
'Life's cares they are comforts,' a maxim laid downBy the bard, what d'ye call him, that wore the black gown;And, faith, I agree with th' old prig to a hair,For a big-belly'd bottle's a heav'n of a care.
A STANZA ADDED IN A MASON LODGE.Then fill up a bumper, and make it o'erflow,And honours masonic prepare for to throw;May every true brother of the compass and squareHave a big-belly'd bottle when harass'd with care.