Would e’er fall from Dame Fortune’s lap,
On me the happiest of mankind,
The merriest mortal you may find?
II.
In peace, malt liquor’s cheap and good;
In war, ’tis poor and badly brewed;
In kitchens, now they drink small beer;
Malt, hops and water, grow so dear.
Good liquor rules both church and state,
It brightens many a stupid pate;