Mid scenes that the senses annoy and appal
Sad and sullen old Holbech appears,
As if doomed to bewail her hard fate from the Fall,
Like a Niobe washed with her tears.
From fogs pestilential that hovered around,
To ward off despair and disease,
The juice of the grape was most generous found,
Source of comfort, of joy, and of ease.
At the “Chequers” long famed to quaff then did delight
The Burghers both ancient and young,