I’ll tell thee how, with decent luck,
Thou may’st become as great a buck
As any one could name us.
When first in high life you commence,
To virtue, reason, common sense,
You’ll please to bid adieu, sir;
And, lest some brother rake be higher,
Drink, till your blood be all on fire,
And face of crimson hue, sir.
Thus you’ll be dubb’d a dashing blade,