WHY

SONG XXV.

HY fo pale and wan, fond lover?
Prithee, why fo pale?

Will, when looking well can't move her,
Looking ill prevail?

Prithee, why fo pale?

Why fo dull and mute, young finner ?
Prithee, why fo mute?

Will, when speaking well can't win her,
Saying nothing do't ?.

Prithee, why fo mute?

Quit, quit for fhame; this will not move,
This cannot take her;
If of herself she will not love,
Nothing can make her:
The devil take her.

M

SONG XXVI.

Y friend and I,

We drank whole pifs-pots
Full of fack up to the brim:
I drank to my friend,
And he drank his pot,
So we put about the whim:
Three bottles and a quart

We fwallow'd down our throat,

(But hang fuch puny fips as thefe);

We laid us all along,

With our mouths unto the bung,

And tipt whole hogfheads off with ease..

I heard of a fop

That drank whole tankards,

Styl'd himself the prince of fots:

But I fay now, Hang

Such filly drunkards,

Melt their flagons, break their pets.

My

My friend and I did join

For a cellar full of wine,

And we drank the vintner out of door; We drank it all up

In a morning, at a fup,

And greedily rov'd about for more.

My friend to me

Did make this motion,

Let us to the vintage skip: Then we imbark'd

Upon the ocean,

Where we found a Spanish fhip

Deep laden with wine,

Which was fuperfine,

The failors fwore five hundred tun;

We drank it all at fea,

Ere we came unto the key,

And the merchant fwore he was quite undone.

My friend, not having

Quench'd his thirft,

Said, Let's to the vineyards hafte :

Straight then we fail'd

To the Canaries,

Which afforded just a taste;

From thence unto the Rhine,

Where we drank up all the wine,

Till Bacchus cry'd, Hold ye fots, or you die, And swore he never found,

In his univerfal round,

Such thirsty fouls as my friend and I,

Out fie! cries one,

What a beast he makes him!

He can neither fstand nor ga: Out you beaft, you,

You're much mistaken,

When e'er knew you a beaft drink fa? 'Tis when we drink the leaft,

That we drink most like a beaft;

But when we caroufe it fix in hand;

"Tis then, and only then,

That we drink the most like men,-*

When we drink till we can neither go nor stand.

L

SONG XXVII.

ET foldiers fight for prey or praife,
And money be the mifer's wifh,
Poor scholars ftudy all their days,
And gluttons glory in their dish :
'Tis wine, pure wine revives fad fouls;
Therefore fill us the chearing bowls.
Let minions marfhal every hair,
And in a lover's lock delight,
And artificial colours wear:

Pure wine is native red and white: 'Tis wine, &c.

The backward fpirit it makes brave,
That lively which before was dull;'
Opens the heart that loves to fave,

And kindness flows from cups brim-full: 'Tis wine, &c.

Some men want youth, and others health,
Some want a wife, and fome a punk,
Some men want wit, and others wealth;
But they want nothing that are drunk :
'Tis wine, pure wine revives fad fouls;
Therefore give us the chearing bowls.

SONG XXVIII.

Farewell, my bonny, bonny, witty, pretty Maggy,

And a' the rofy laffes milking on the dowu:
Adieu the flowery meadows, aft fae dear to Jocky,
The sports and merry glee of Edinborow town;
Since French and Spanish lowns ftand at bay,
And valiant lads of Britain hold 'em play,
My reap-hook I maun caft quite away,
And fight too like a man,

Among 'em for our royal Queen Anne.

Each

Each carle of Irish mettle battles like a dragon

T

The Germans waddle, and straddle to the drum; The Italian and the butter bowzy Hogan Mogan: O Good-faith then, Scottish Focky mauna lie at hame : For fince they are ganging to hunt renown,

And fwear they'll quickly ding auld Monfieur down, I'll follow for a pluck at his crown,

To fhew that Scotland can

Excel 'em for our royal Queen Anne.

Then welcome from Vigo,
And cudgelling Don Diego,
With ftrutting rascallions,
And plundering the galleons:
Each brisk valiant fellow
Fought at Rondondellow,
And those who did meet
With the Newfoundland fleet;
When for late fucceffes,
Which Europe confeffes,
At land by our gallant commanders
The Dutch in ftrong beer,

Shou'd be drunk for a year,
With their general's health in Flanders.

SONG XXIX.

HE ordnance aboard,

TH

Such joys does afford,

As no mortal, no mortal, no mortal,
No mortal e'er more can defire:
Each member repairs

From the tower to the ftairs,
And by water whuh, and by water whush,

By water they all go to fire.

Of each piece that's afhore,
They fearch from the bore;

And to proving, to proving, to proving
To proving they go in fair weather:

bak Their

Their glaffes are large,

And whene'er they discharge,

There's a boo huzza, a boo huzza, a boo huzza, Guns and bumpers go off together.

Old Vulcan for Mars,

Fitted tools for his wars,

To enable him, enable him, enable him,
Enable him to conquer the fafter:
But Mars, had he been

Upon our Woolwich green,

To have heard boo huzza, boo húzza, boo huzza, He'd have own❜d great Marlborough his master.

SONG XXX.

Eave off your foolish prating,
Talk no more of Whig and Tory,
But drink your glass,

Round let it pass,

The bottle ftands before ye,

Fill it up to the top,

Let the night with mirth be crown'd,

Drink about, fee it out,

Love and friendship still go round.