My soul been rous'd with "Thunder and Lightning;"
With "Rossignol" I've fill'd my throat,
Till another "jug! jug!" was all my note;
And when that cloy'd—the feast to vary—
I've madly swallow'd my "Canary;"
I've tippled Punch of my own brewing;
Gone first to "rack," and then, to "ruin;"
Like Cleopatra, th' Egyptian girl,
I've drain'd my draught of precious "purl;"
My heart I've warm'd with nice "lamb's wool;"