You're certainly preparing a catastrophe appalling,
Your mirth is as the little lamb's, unmindful of the mint.
And when your entertainer, who seems so sweetly placid
And quite unlike a criminal, suggests "Another cup?"
She might as well be offering a dose of prussic acid,
And the Public Prosecutor ought to take the matter up!
"The cup that cheers"—that hackneyed phrase is frightfully in error,
If seldom it "inebriates" (it does, the doctors plead),
There lurks within its fatal draught a more efficient terror,
'Twill shortly make a funeral your one and only need!