Classic Poem

He that loves Sack doth nothing lack,
If he but Loyal be;
He that deny's Bacchus' supplyes,
Shows meer Hypocrisie.

Come Boyes, fill us a Bumper, we'l make the Nation roare.
She's grown sick of a Rumper that sticks on the old score.
Pox on Phanaticks, rout 'um, they thirst for our blood;
We'l Taxes raise without 'um, and drink for the Nation's good.
Fill the Pottles and Gallons, and bring the Hogshead in,
We'l begin with a Tallen--a Brimmer to the KING. [Tallen or Tallboy=a kind of long glass

Round around, fill a fresh one, let no man bawk his Wine,
We'l drink to the next in Succession, and keep it in the Right Line.
Bring us ten thousand glasses, the more we drink we'r a-dry;
We mind no the beautiful Lasses, whose Conquest lyes all in the eye.
Charge the Pottles and Gallons, and bring the Hogshead in,
We'l begin with a Tallen, a Brimmer to the King.

We Boyes are truly Loyal, for Charles we'l venture all,
We know his blood is Royal, his Name shall never fall.
But those who seek his ruine may chance to dye before him,
While we, that Sack are wooing, for ever will adore him.
Fill the Pottles and Gallons, and bring the Hogshead in,
We'l begin with a Tallen; a Brimmer to the King.

I hate those strange dissenters that strives to bawk a glass,
He that at all Adventures will see what comes to pass.
And let the Popish Faction disturb us if they can,
They ne'r shall breed distraction in a treu-hearted man.
Fill the Pottles and Gallons, and bring the Hogshead in,
We'l begin with a Tallen, a Brimmer to the King.

Let the Phanaticks grumble, to see things cross their grain,
We'l make them now more humble, or ease them of their pain:
They shall drink Sack amain, too, or else they shall be choak't,
We'l tell 'um 'tis in vain, too for us to be provok't.
Fill the Pottles and Gallons, and bring the Hogshead in,
We'l begin with a Tallen, "a Brimmer to the King!"

He that denyes the Brimmer, shall banish'd be in this Isle,
And we will look more grimmer till he begins to smile:
We'l drown him in Canary, and make him all our own,
And when his Heart is merry, he'l drink to Charles in's Throne:
Fill the Pottles and Gallons, and bring the Hogshead in,
We'l begin with a Tallen, a Brimmer to the King!

Quakers and Anabaptist, we'l sink them in a glass;
He deals most plain and flattest that sayes he loves a Lass:
Then tumble down Canary, and let your brains go round,
For he that won't be merry, he can't at heart be sound.
Fill the Pottles and Gallons, and bring the Hogshead in,
We'l begin with a Tallen, a Brimmer to the KING!