Poetical Works of John Oldham/The Careless Good Fellow
THE CARELESS GOOD FELLOW.[1]
SONG.
1
What a pother and stir has it kept in the State;
Let the rabble run mad with suspicions and fears,
Let them scuffle and jar, till they go by the ears;
Their grievances never shall trouble my pate,
So I can enjoy my dear bottle at quiet.
2
And their necks for a toy, a thin wafer and mass;
At old Tyburn thay never had needed to swing,
Had they been but true subjects to drink and their king;
A friend and a bottle is all my design;
He has no room for treason, that's top-full of wine.
3
Let them sit or prorogue, as his majesty please;
Let them damn us to woollen,[2] I'll never repine
At my lodging when dead, so alive I have wine;
Yet oft in my drink I can hardly forbear
To curse them for making my claret so dear.
4
About right and succession, the trifles of state;
We've a good king already; and he deserves laughter
That will trouble his head with who shall come after;
Come, here's to his health, and I wish he may be
As free from all care and all trouble as we.
5
Or intrigues betwixt Sidney and Monsieur D'Avaux?
What concerns it my drinking, if Cassel be sold,
If the conqueror take it by storming, or gold?
Good Bordeaux alone is the place that I mind,
And when the fleet's coming, I pray for a wind.
6
By dull cutting of throats, and venturing his own,
Let him fight and be damned, and make matches and treat,
To afford the newsmongers and coffee-house chat;
He's but a brave wretch, while I am more free,
More safe, and a thousand times happier than he.
7
Or come faggot and stake, I care not a groat;
Never think that in Smithfield I porters will heat:
No, I swear, Mr. Fox, pray excuse me for that.
I'll drink in defiance of gibbet and halter,
This is the profession that never will alter.