The Clarret Drinker's SONG: OR, The Good Fellows Design.

APOX of the Fooling and Plotting of late,
What a Pother and Stir has it kept in the State?
Let the Rabble run mad with Suspicions and Fears;
Let 'em Scuffle and Iarr, till they go by the Ears;
Their Grievances never shall trouble my Pate,
So I can but enjoy my dear Bottle at quiet.
What Coxcombs were those, who would barter their Ease,
And their Necks, for a Toy, a thin Wafer and Mass?
At Old Tyburn they never had needed to swing,
Had they been but true Subjects to Drink, and their King:
A Friend and a Bottle is all my Design,
H'as no room for Treason, that's top-full of Wine.
I mind not the Members and Makers of Laws,
Let 'em Sit or Prorogue as His Majesty please;
Let 'em damn us to Woollen, I'll never repine
At my Lodging when dead, so alive I have VVine.
Yet oft in my Drink I can hardly forbear,
To Curse 'em, for making my Claret so dear.
I mind not grave Asses, who idly debate
About Right and Succession, the Trifles of State;
VVe've a good King already, and he deserves laughter,
That will trouble his head with who shall come after.
Come here's to his health, and I wish he may be
As free from all care and all trouble as we.
What care I how Leagues with the Hollander go,
Or Intrigues betwixt Sidney and Monsieur d'Avaux;
What concerns it my Drinking if Cazall be sold,
If the Conquerour takes it by storming or Gold;
Good Bourdeaux alone is the place that I mind,
And when the Fleet's coming, I pray for a Wind.
The Bully of France, that aspires to Renown,
By dull Cutting of Throats and vent'ring his own:
Let him fight and be damn'd, and make Matches and treat,
To afford News-mongers and Coffee house chat:
He's but a brave Wretch, whilst I am more free,
More safe, and a thousand times happier than he.
Come he or the Pope, or the Devil to boot;
Or come Faggot and Stake, I care not a Groat:
Never think that in Smithfield I Porters will heat:
No I swear Mr. Fox pray excuse me for that.
I'll drink in Defiance of Gibbet and Halter,
This is the Profession that never will alter.
FINIS.

LONDON, Printed 1680.

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