Nor Waiters rave, nor Landlords thirst for gold;
Ale and content his fancy's bounds confine,
He asks no limpid Punch, no rosy Wine;
But sees, admitted to an equal share,
Each faithful swain the heady potion bear.
Go, wiser thou! and in thy scale of taste
Weigh gout and gravel against ale and rest.
Call vulgar palates, what thou judgest so;
Say, beer is heavy, windy, cold and slow;
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