Or merry swains, who quaff the nut-brown ale,
And sing enamour'd of the nut-brown maid.

Or merry swains, who quaff the nut-brown ale,
And sing enamour'd of the nut-brown maid.

If after the manner of men I have fought with beasts at Ephesus,
what advantageth it me, if the read more

If after the manner of men I have fought with beasts at Ephesus,
what advantageth it me, if the dead rise not? let us eat and
drink; for to morrow we die.

How gracious those dews of solace that over my senses fall
At the clink of the ice in the read more

How gracious those dews of solace that over my senses fall
At the clink of the ice in the pitcher the boy brings up the
hall.

Inebriate of air am I,
And debauchee of dew,
Reeling, through endless summer days,
read more

Inebriate of air am I,
And debauchee of dew,
Reeling, through endless summer days,
From inns of molten blue.

Of course one should not drink much, but often.

Of course one should not drink much, but often.

Nothing in Nature's sober found,
But an eternal Health goes round.
Fill up the Bowl then, fill read more

Nothing in Nature's sober found,
But an eternal Health goes round.
Fill up the Bowl then, fill it high--
Fill all the Glasses there; for why
Should every Creature Drink but I?
Why, Man of Morals, tell me why?

"Wery good power o' suction, Sammy," said Mr. Weller the
elder. . . . "You'd ha' made an uncommon read more

"Wery good power o' suction, Sammy," said Mr. Weller the
elder. . . . "You'd ha' made an uncommon fine oyster, Sammy, if
you'd been born in that station o' life."

When treading London's well-known ground
If e'er I feel my spirits tire,
I haul my sail, look read more

When treading London's well-known ground
If e'er I feel my spirits tire,
I haul my sail, look up around,
In search of Whitbread's best entire.
- Unattributed Author,

And I wish his soul in heaven may dwell,
Who first invented this leathern bottel!

And I wish his soul in heaven may dwell,
Who first invented this leathern bottel!