Contents a Treasure; Or, The Jovial Loyalist. A most pleasant New play Song, greatly in Request, both at Court and THEATRE. Contents a Treasure, nothing more can be, Tis all that can make happy thee or me; Content and Loyalty, and harmless Mirth, Are those that give to all our Joys a Birth: Wine is a charm, tis armour-proof and male, It quicks our Sences, when our Wits do fail; Keeps us from Cold, and hushes all our Cares, And in the midst of Dangers stiffles fears. To a New Tune of, We are jovial Topers; Or, There was a jovial Begger.
|
WE are Jovial Topers,
|
that no man evil think,
|
But study to be Merry,
|
and drink off our Drink,
|
And so Merry we will be,
|
Will be, will be, will be,
|
And so Merry we will be.
|
No Plots we ere invented,
|
against the Church and State,
|
But still we keep our Loyalty,
|
and shun all rash debate,
|
And so Merry, etc.
|
In scarcity and plenty,
|
we always are content,
|
We ner repine at Providence,
|
but take what it has sent,
|
And so Merry, etc.
|
When the weathers Rainy,
|
or Cloudy, for to warm us,
|
Each man turns off his glass or two
|
which never yet could harm us,
|
And so Merry we will be,
|
Will be, will be, will be,
|
and so merry we will be.
|
A Health or two we pass about,
|
to those were sure are Loyal,
|
But those that otherways we find,
|
we generously defie all,
|
And so merry, etc.
|
We give to every man his due,
|
no Mortal can say other,
|
We live like kind Companions,
|
and still love one another,
|
And so merry, etc.
|
Let the Worldlings sweat and moile
|
for guilded Clay, we care not,
|
Tis all but dross, we value not,
|
then spend it Boys, and spare not
|
And so merry, etc.
|
Rich Nectar does inflame us,
|
and makes our thoughts divine,
|
All sorrows it does banish,
|
theres nothing like brisk wine,
|
And so merry, etc.
|
If we have our Mistris,
|
she still does make us jolly,
|
Tis Clarret or Canary,
|
that makes us see mens folly,
|
And so merry, etc.
|
The world it is an Ocean,
|
wherein all men are Sailing,
|
Then briskly drink about Boys,
|
and let there be no failing,
|
And so merry, etc.
|
Come fill us tother Bumper,
|
we see no cause to part yet,
|
Wine is the only Jewel,
|
that ever charmd my heart yet,
|
And so merry, etc.
|
Though fortune it does frown,
|
wel ner be melancholly,
|
Tis vain to grieve for ought below,
|
rash sororws but a folly,
|
And so merry, etc.
|
Come fill us tother Bumper Boys,
|
let it be just a Brimmer,
|
And he that will not pledge it,
|
a Whigg is, or a Trimmer,
|
And so merry, etc.
|
To Charles our King, his gracious Queen
|
and to his Royal Brother,
|
Come fill it up again Boys,
|
heres to the Prince another,
|
And so merry, etc.
|
We have the world at will boys,
|
theres nothing we can lack,
|
Since our Cups with Nectar flow,
|
tis Nectar we call Sack,
|
And so merry, etc.
|
Theres none so happy live as we,
|
on us delights do showre,
|
We live from hate and envy free,
|
more safe then those in power,
|
And so merry we will be,
|
Will be, will be, will be,
|
And so merry we will be.
|
|
|
|
|
|