1. 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 a snare,
For a big belly’d bottle’s the whole of my care.

2. The Peer I don’t envy. I give him his bow.
I scorn not the Peasant tho’ ev er so low.
But a club of good fellows like those that are here
And a bottle like this are my glory and care.

3. 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 bell’d bottle still eases my care.

4. 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 belly’d bottle’s a cure for all care.

5. 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.

6. 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 the old prig to a hair,
For a big belly’d bottle’s a heaven of care.

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