RISE Bonny Kate, the Sun's got up high,
The Fidlers have play'd their last merry Tune;
Let's give 'em a George and bid 'em god b'w'y,
And gang to the Wells before 'tis noon.
There to thy Health ize drink my three quarts,
Then raffle among the Beauties divine;
Where tho' some young Fops may chance to lose hearts,
Assure thy self Jockey's shall still be thine.
When we come home we'll kiss and we'll bill,
And Feast on each other as well as our meat;
Then saddle our Nags and away to Box-hill,
And there, there, there, consummate the Treat.
And when at Bowls I chance to be broke,
Smile thou, and for losses I care not a pin;
I'll push on my Fortune at Night at the Oak,
And quickly, quickly, quickly, recov'r all agen.
For thy diversion coud'st thou but think,
Why here all degrees cold Bumpers take off;
Or why all this croud come hither to drink,
In spight of the Spleen twou'd make thee laugh.
Courtiers and Plough-men, States-men and Citts,
The Men of the Sword, and Men of the Laws;
The Virgin, the Punck, the Fools, and the Wits,
All tope off their Cups for a different Cause.
New Marry'd Brides their Spouses to please,
Each Morning quaff largely in hopes to conceive;
The Bully too drinks to wash off his Disease,
Still fearing the Fall of the Leaf.
Old musty Wives take Nine in a hand,
The Maiden takes five too, that's vex'd with her Greens;
In hopes they'll have pow'r to prepare her for Man,
When ever she comes to her Teens.
Page:Songs compleat, pleasant and divertive (Wit and mirth or, Pills to purge melancholy).djvu/331
This page needs to be proofread.
