Volume 5 — The Good Fellow.

[Listen]

LEt’s be jolly, fill our Glasses, Madness ’tis for us to think, How the World is rul’d by Asses, That o’ersway the Wise with Chink: Let not such vain Thoughts oppress us, Riches prove to them a Snare; We are all as rich as Crœsus, Drink your Glasses, take no care. Wine will make us fresh as Roses, And our Sorrows all forgot; Let us fuddle well our Noses, Drink ourselves quite out of Debt: When grim Death is looking for us, Whilst we’re singing o’er our Bowls; Bacchus joyning in our Chorus, Death depart, here’s none but Souls.