The Boon Companions.
OR,
The Merry Loyal Boys of SUFFOLK's
JOVIAL HEALTH.
To the Tune of, Fond Boy. Licensed according to Order.
|
WE are the bold Suffolk boon revelling Boys,
|
Who will fill both the Tavern & Ale-house with noise;
|
For the Liquor of life we do dearly adore,
|
When the bottles are empty we'll thunder for more,
|
For to make our hearts chearful we'll merrily sing,
|
With a rousing full Bumper to Caesar, our King.
|
We'll rise with the Morning, keep pace with the Sun,
|
We'll begin with a gallon, and end with a tun,
|
For there's nothing like Drinking to chear up the soul,
|
Then about with a Bumper, a cherishing bowl;
|
All the Cares of the world are but madness, you know,
|
We will drown them in Rivers where Nector does flow.
|
Be nimble brave Tapster, and bring us more beer,
|
Let not honest good fellows sit lazily here,
|
Here's a bumper to him that is true to his friend,
|
And there's more money got than we ever shall spend;
|
Therefore bring us a paper of Excellent Fogo,
|
That we here may perfume the whole house with a Hogo.
|
In matters of State we will ne'er be concern'd,
|
We're a pack of boon fellows, who only have learn'd
|
Here the true way of Drinking, and that is our pride,
|
Therefore let it come in like a full flowing tide,
|
And let them go to War that takes pleasure therein,
|
We do think it more safe to sleep in a whole skin.
|
Tho' the French they were landed, as some have recounted
|
And tho' they had a hundred large Cannons all mounted,
|
Likewise Lewis of France for to head these fine fellows,
|
Yet the devil a foot would we stur from the Ale-house,
|
But we'd each man be arm'd with a pipe and his pot,
|
Thus we'd smother and drown'd the Monsieur on the spot.
|
If Monsieur should venture to come on this shore,
|
From the Ale-house & Tavern our bombs they should roar,
|
While our smoak from the windows like vapors shall fly,
|
Or a thick misty cloud for to darken the sky:
|
Thus we'd stand to our drink like each man to his gun,
|
And it is not the French that shoud make us to run.
|
Thus we are good subjects and friends to the Crown,
|
In letting full bumpers go merrily down;
|
And a new sort of Custom we constantly raise,
|
For the smoaking his Nose e'ry good fellow pays,
|
Thus our smoaking does cause the Kings Custom to rise,
|
And the fuddling advances the Royal Excise.
|
We needs must acknowledge we take no delight
|
For to go to the Wars there to quarrel and fight,
|
We had rather in love stay at home with our Wives,
|
And let them go that never did value their lives,
|
Yet we'll drink a full bumper now merrily round,
|
A good Health to the King with our knees to the ground
|
Here['s] a Health to true hearts that are honest and just,
|
Who was never unfaithful nor false to their trust,
|
Such as those we admire above any other,
|
I hope you will pledge this good health honest brother,
|
It is better for us to sit honestly sotting,
|
Than to live to be hang'd for Cabelling and Plotting.
|
|
|
|
|
|