Let the toast pass,
Drink to the lass,
I’ll warrant she’ll prove an excuse for the glass.
Here’s to the charmer whose dimples we prize,
Now to the maid who has none, sir:
Here’s to the girl with a pair of blue eyes,
And here’s to the nymph with but one, sir.
Let the toast pass, &c.
Here’s to the maid with a bosom of snow;
Now to her that’s as brown as a berry: