Here’s to the card who’s presented with plate,

And, to him who’s presented a bill, sir,

Let the toast gee—

Drink to him, he,

I warrant, excuse for a bumper will be.

Here’s to the cove with the shirt-front of snow,

Now to him who’s not even a dickey;

Here’s to him on whom Fortune all gifts doth bestow,

And to him now, with whom she is tricky.

Let the toast gee—