Star at Coventry, on a Window.
Drunk at Comb-Abbey, horrid drunk;
Hither I came, and met my fav'rite Punk.
But she as well might have embrac'd a Log,
All Night I snor'd, and grunted like a Hog,
Then was not I a sad confounded Dog!
R. H.
I'll never get drunk again,
For my Head's full of Pain,
And it grieves me to think,