Lord Rake Sings.
I.
What a Pother of late
Have they kept in the State,
About setting our Consciences free!
A Bottle has more
Dispensations in store,
Than the King and the State can decree.
II.
When my Head's full of Wine,
I o'erflow with Design,
And know no Penal-Laws that can curb me:
Whate'er I devise
Seems good in my Eyes,
And Religion ne'er dares to disturb me.
III.
No saucy Remorse
Intrudes in my Course,
Nor impertinent Notions of Evil;
So there's Claret in store,
In Peace I've my Whore,
And in Peace I jog on to the Devil.
All sing. So there's Claret, &c.
Lord Rake. [Rep.] And in Peace I jog on to the Devil. Well, how do you like it, Gentlemen?
All. O, admirable!