Till Bacchus cried "Hold, hold! 'ere I die!"
He swore he never found, in the universe around,
Two such thirsty souls as my friend and I.
"Pooh!" says one, "what a beast he makes himself,
He can neither stand nor go!"
"Sir," said I, "that's a grand mistake of yours,
For when did you ever know a beast drink so?
'Tis when we drink the least, we drink the most like beasts;
'Tis when we carouse with six in hand;
'Tis then and only then, we drink about like men,