Classic Poem

The Earth with swallowing drunken showers
Reels a perpetual round,
And with their Healths the Trees and Flowers
Again drink up the Ground.

The Sea, of Liquor spuing full,
The ambient Air doth sup,
And thirsty Phaebus at a pull,
Quaffs off the Ocean's cup.

When stagg'ring to a resting place,
His bus'ness being done,
The Moon, with her pale platter face,
Comes and drinks up the Sun.

Since Elements and Planets then
Drink an eternal round,
'Tis much more proper sure for men
Have better Liquor found.
Why may not I then, tell me pray,
Drink and be drunk as well as they?