Classic Poem

My time, O ye Grattans, was happily spent,
When Bacchus went with me wherever I went;
For then I did nothing but sing, laugh and jest —
Was ever a toper so merrily blest?
But now I so cross and so peevish am grown
Because I must go to my wife back to town —
To the fondling and toying of " honey " and " dear, "
And the conjugal comforts of horrid small beer.

My daughter I ever was pleased to see
Come fawning and begging to ride on my knee.
My wife too was pleased, and to the child said,
" Come, hold in your belly and hold up your head. "
But now out of humor I, with a sour look,
Cry, " Hussy! " and give her a souse with my book.
And I'll give her another — for why should she play,
Since my Bacchus and glasses and friends are away?

Wine, what of thy delicate hue is become,
That tinged our glasses with blue like a plum?
Those bottles, those bumpers, why do they not smile
While we sit carousing and drinking the while?
Ah bumpers! I see that our wine is all done;
Our mirth falls, of course, when our Bacchus is gone.
Then since it is so, bring here a supply;
Begone, froward wife, for I'll drink till I die!