Old Simon the cellarer keep a rare store
Of Malmsey and Malvoisie.

Old Simon the cellarer keep a rare store
Of Malmsey and Malvoisie.

Few things surpass old wine; and they may preach
Who please, the more because they preach in vain,--
read more

Few things surpass old wine; and they may preach
Who please, the more because they preach in vain,--
Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter,
Sermons and soda-water the day after.

Bring me wine, but wine which never grew
In the belly of the grape,
Or grew on read more

Bring me wine, but wine which never grew
In the belly of the grape,
Or grew on vine whose tap-roots, reaching through
Under the Andes to the Cape,
Suffered no savor of the earth to escape.

Where the drink goes in, there the wit goes out.

Where the drink goes in, there the wit goes out.

Firm and erect the Caledonian stood;
Sound was his mutton, and his claret good;
"Let him drink read more

Firm and erect the Caledonian stood;
Sound was his mutton, and his claret good;
"Let him drink port!" the English statesman cried:
He drank the poison, and his spirit died.

Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth his
colour in the cup, when read more

Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth his
colour in the cup, when it moveth itself aright.
At the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder.

So Noah, when he anchor'd safe on
The mountain's top, his lofty haven,
And all the passengers read more

So Noah, when he anchor'd safe on
The mountain's top, his lofty haven,
And all the passengers he bore
Were on the new world set ashore,
He made it next his chief design
To plant and propagate a vine,
Which since has overwhelm'd and drown'd
Far greater number, on dry ground,
Of wretched mankind, one by one,
Than all the flood before had done.

I hang no ivie out to sell my wine;
The nectar of good wits will sell itself.

I hang no ivie out to sell my wine;
The nectar of good wits will sell itself.

John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
Of noble enterprise,
For if you do but taste his blood,
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John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
Of noble enterprise,
For if you do but taste his blood,
'Twill make your courage rise,
Twill make a man forget his wo;
'Twill heighten all his joy.