The Whigs Drowned In An Honest Tory Health

Wealth breeds care, love, hope, and fear; What does love or bus'ness here? While Bacchus' navy doth appear, Fight on and fear not sinking; Fill it briskly to the brim, Till the flying top-sails swim, We owe the first discovery to him Of this great world of drinking. 2. Brave Cabals, who states refine, Mingle their debates with wine, Ceres and the god o' th' vine Make every great commander; Let sober Scots small beer subdue, The wise and valiant wine do woo, The Stagerite had the horrors too, To be drunk with Alexander. 3. Stand to your arms! and now advance, A health to the English King of France; And to the next of boon esperance, By Bacchus and Apollo; Thus in state I lead the van, Fall in your place by the right-hand man, Beat drum! march on! dub a dub, ran dan! He's a Whig that will not follow.

4. Face about to the right again, Britain's admiral of the main, York and his illustrious train Crown the day's conclusion; Let a halter stop his throat Who brought in the foremost vote, And of all that did promote The mystery of exclusion. 5. Next to Denmark's warlike prince Let the following health commence, To the nymph whose influence That brought the hero hither; - May their race the tribe annoy, Who the Grandsire would destroy, And get every year a boy Whilst they live together. 6. To the royal family Let us close in bumpers three, May the ax and halter be The pledge of every Roundhead; To all loyal hearts pursue, Who to the monarch dare prove true; But for him they call True Blue, Let him be confounded.