Dainty Davie (1823)/A plague on all musty old lubbers

by Robert Burns (1759-1796)

nothing like grog.

A plague on those musty old lubbers
Who tell us to fast and to think,
And patiently bear with life's rubbers,
With nothing but water to drink;
A can of good stuff had they swigged it,
Would soon ay have set them agog;
In spite of the rules
Of the schools,
The old fools
Would have constantly swigg'd it,
And sworn there was nothing like grog

My father, when last I from Guinea
Return'd with abundance of wealth,
Cry'd, Jack, never be such a ninny
As to drink; says I, Father your health;
So I tipp'd him the stuff and he twigg'd it,
And it soon set th' old codger agog;
So he swigg’d, and mother,
And sister and brother.
And all of us swigg'd it,
And we swore there was nothing like grog.

T'other day when the chaplain was preaching,
Behind him I curiously slunk,
And while he us our duty was teaching
As how we should never get drunk,
I tipp'd him a can and he twigg'd it,
And it soon set his rev'rence agog;
So he swigg'd and Dick swigg'd,
And Ben swigg'd and I swigg'd,
And all of us swigg'd it,
And we swore there was nothing like grog.

Then trust me there's nothing like drinking,
So pleasant on this side the grave,
It keeps the unhappy from thinking,
And makes e'en more valiant the brave
As for me, since the moment I swigg'd it,
The good stuff has so set me agog,
That sick or well, late or early,
Wind foully or fairly,
I’ve constantly swigg'd it.
And dem'me there’s nothing like grog.

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