The Big-bellied Bottle.
[This appears in the first Edinburgh edition of Burns's Poems, 1787. It is adapted to the old tune called "The Lazy Mist."]
No churchman am I, for to rail and to write;
No statesman or soldier, to plot or to fight,
No sly man of business, contriving a snare:
For a big-bellied bottle's the whole of my care.
The peer I don't envy—I give him his bow;
I scorn not the peasant, though ever so low;
But a club of good fellows, like those that are here,
And a bottle like this, are my glory and care.
Here passes the squire on his brother—his horse;
There centum-per-centum, the cit with his purse;
But see you "the Crown," how it waves in the air!
There a big-bellied bottle still eases my care.
The wife of my bosom, alas! she did die;
For sweet consolation to church I did fly;
I found that old Solomon proved it fair,
That a big-bellied bottle's a cure for all care.
I once was persuaded a venture to make;
A letter inform'd me that all was to wreck;
But the pursy old landlord just waddled upstairs,
With a glorious bottle, that ended my cares.
"Life's cares they are comforts," a maxim laid down
By the bard, what d'ye call him, that wore the black gown?
And faith I agree with th' old prig to a hair,
For a big-bellied bottle's a heaven of care.
[Stanza added in a Mason Lodge.]
Then fill up a bumper, and make it o'erflow,
And honours masonic prepare for to throw;
May every true brother of the compass and square
Have a bis-bellied bottle when harass'd with care.