Toujours fidele, et sans souci,
C'est l'ordre du Crambambuli!
Comes there no bill my needs to better?
Have I at play my money lost?
My maiden, writes she not a letter!
Come grievous tidings by the post?
Then drink I, from anxiety,
A brimming glass Crambambulli.
Ah! if the dear old folks but knew it,
How we young Gents, their sons, were stead,