A Bacchanalian Scene
Supposed to be acted at a Tavern by a Set of True-Topers. In the Brobdignan Measure First T OPER :
Pray pull the ribbon, sir.
(Second Toper rings and calls)
Here, drawer!
(Enter Drawer)
Gentlemen, d'ye call? T HIRD T OPER :
We're rang this half-hour, bring more wine; d'ye mean to parch us all? D RAWER :
Why, gentleman, the wine you seal'd is drunk out ev'ry Flask. F OURTH T OPER :
Then down into the cellar, boys, and there let's broach a cask:
Thou to each mouth shall pierce a hole, while we kneel down and suck;
O, what a consort there will be, of Gluck, Gluck, Gluck, Gluck, Gluck.
Scene changes to the wine cellar, where they all make a low reverence to a hogshead of claret First T OPER :
Lovely wet-nurse! dear foster mother of the tippling race!
The goodness of thy milk is seen in ev'ry ruby face. S ECOND T OPER :
How many sad and mournful hearts hast thou reviv'd and chear'd?
How many glorious, precious, babes, dear nursey, hast thou rear'd? T HIRD T OPER :
'Tis time she had a little ease; poor soul! she is too full:
The draughts come in; see how she swells! Come, pull away boys, pull!
(They all kneel down and suck) F OURTH T OPER :
Oh, glorious milk! how sweet, how pure! Let sneakers take their flask,
I'll never touch a bottle more while I can suck a cask.
C HORUS
O, glorious milk, how sweet, how pure! Let sneakers take their flask,
I'll never touch a bottle more while I can suck a cask.
Pray pull the ribbon, sir.
(Second Toper rings and calls)
Here, drawer!
(Enter Drawer)
Gentlemen, d'ye call? T HIRD T OPER :
We're rang this half-hour, bring more wine; d'ye mean to parch us all? D RAWER :
Why, gentleman, the wine you seal'd is drunk out ev'ry Flask. F OURTH T OPER :
Then down into the cellar, boys, and there let's broach a cask:
Thou to each mouth shall pierce a hole, while we kneel down and suck;
O, what a consort there will be, of Gluck, Gluck, Gluck, Gluck, Gluck.
Scene changes to the wine cellar, where they all make a low reverence to a hogshead of claret First T OPER :
Lovely wet-nurse! dear foster mother of the tippling race!
The goodness of thy milk is seen in ev'ry ruby face. S ECOND T OPER :
How many sad and mournful hearts hast thou reviv'd and chear'd?
How many glorious, precious, babes, dear nursey, hast thou rear'd? T HIRD T OPER :
'Tis time she had a little ease; poor soul! she is too full:
The draughts come in; see how she swells! Come, pull away boys, pull!
(They all kneel down and suck) F OURTH T OPER :
Oh, glorious milk! how sweet, how pure! Let sneakers take their flask,
I'll never touch a bottle more while I can suck a cask.
C HORUS
O, glorious milk, how sweet, how pure! Let sneakers take their flask,
I'll never touch a bottle more while I can suck a cask.
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.