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A HISTORICAL ESSAY
ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF NATIONAL SONG,
BY THE LATE
JOSEPH RITSON, Esq.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
THE SECOND EDITION,
ADDITIONAL SONGS AND OCCASIONAL NOTES.
By THOMAS PARK, F. S. A.
PRINTED FOR F. C. AND J. RIVINGTON; LONGMAN, HURST, REES,
PHO! pox o'this nonsense, I prithee give o'er,
Let finical fops play the fool and the ape;
'Tis wine, only wine, that true pleasure bestows; Our joys it increases, and lightens our woes; Remember what topers of old us'd to sing,
The man that is drunk is as great as a king.'
If Cupid assaults you, there's law for his tricks;
What's life but a frolic, a song, and a laugh?
BETTER Our heads than hearts should ake,
Wine sweetens all the cares of peace,
And to our joys does best prepare.
Better our heads than hearts should ake,
SOME say women are like the seas,
Some the weather, and some the cocks: But if you'll give me leave to tell, There's nothing can be compar'd so well, As wine, wine, women and wine, they run in a parallel.
Women are witches, when they will,
So is wine, so is wine;
They make the statesman lose his skill,
'Tis wine, wine, women and wine, they run in a parallel.
What is't that makes your visage so pale?
What is't that makes your looks divine ?
Is it not women? Is it not wine? 'Tis wine will make you sick when you're well; 'Tis women that make your forehead to swell : 'Tis wine, wine, women and wine, they run in a parallel.
THE Women all tell me I'm false to my lass,