�A. CCH?NA. LI?N SONGS, ?0?. THEN' GLASS AFTER GLASS LET US PURSU? Wxw=, wine/s alone the brisk fountain of mirth, Whence jollity springs, and contentment has birth, What mortals so happy as we who combine, And ?x our delight in the juice of the vine.? No care interrupts when' the bottle's in view, Then glass after glass, my boys, let us pursue. Our laws are our own, not enforced by the crown. And we stand to them fair, till we fairly fall down; At acts or repeals we disdain to repine, l?lor grudge any' tax, but the tax on our wine; To Cmsar and Bacchus our tribute is due, Then glass after glass, my boys, let us pursue. His worship, so grave, here may revel and roar; The lawyer speak truth, who ne'er spoke so before; The parson here, stript of his priesthood's disguise; And Chloe's scorned lover get drunk a?d grow wise ? The husband may learn here to combat the shrew, So glass ailer glass, my boys, let us pursue. The chase of the bottle few accidents wait, We seldom break necks, though we off crack a pate: If wars rise among us, they soon again cease, One bumper brings truce, and another brings peace: 'Tis this way alone we life's evils subdue; Then glass after glass, my boys, let us pursue. �TIEN SLING THE FLOVt?ING BOVV'L, COME, come, my ?o!ly lads, The wind's abaft? Brisk gales our sails shall crowd:--* Come, bustle, bustle, bustle, boys, Haul the boat; The_boatswain ,pipea aloud?
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