“... Left with her last glass alone,
Thus loud laments her lot, the squeaking crone:
Farewell, my life and beauty, thou art sped,
Faithful companion of my board and bed!
My earthly term fain with thee would I live,
Who to my sorrowing heart can’st solace give.
Bereft of gin, alas! am I for aye!
The Act is passed. ’Tis all in vain to pray.
Go where the Fates may call, and know that I