My Hookah.
When death-like dews and fogs prevailing
In Pinnace or in Budg’-row sailing,
What is it that prevents our ailing?
My Hookah.
When we’re our skins with claret soaking,
And heedless wits their friends are joking,
Which friend will stand the greatest smoking?
My Hookah.
By what—(nay, answer at your ease,)