The joy, the extacy of lushing?
Rich the treasure,
Sweet the pleasure,
To imbibe a cordial drain.
Pleas’d with its praise fat Josh grew vain,
Fought all his battles o’er again,
And swore his max was very prime, and better than champagne.
Jack Fogo saw his madness rise,
His rosy snout, his staring eyes;
And to subdue his furious fit,