XXIII.
Reading edition
THE CURE FOR ALL CARE.
Tune—“Prepare, my dear brethren, to the tavern let’s fly.”
[Tarbolton Lodge, of which the poet was a member, was noted for its socialities. Masonic lyrics are all of a dark and mystic order; and those of Burns are scarcely an exception.]
I.
No churchman am I for to rail and to write, No statesman nor soldier to plot or to fight, No sly man of business, contriving to snare— For a big-bellied bottle’s the whole of my care.
II.
The peer I don’t envy, I give him his bow; I scorn not the peasant, tho’ ever so low; But a club of good fellows, like those that are here, And a bottle like this, are my glory and care.
III.
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.
IV.
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.
V.
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 up stairs, With a glorious bottle that ended my cares.
VI.
“Life’s cares they are comforts,”[136]—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 heav’n of care.
VII.
ADDED IN A MASON LODGE.
Then fill up a bumper and make it o’erflow. The honours masonic prepare for to throw; May every true brother of the compass and square Have a big-bellied bottle when harass’d with care!