The Couragious Gallant;
OR,
CUPID Degraded.
True Lovers grief may find Relief,
Good Wine will cure the cause;
Then Fill the Glass, and let it pass,
A Figg for CUPIDS Laws.
To the Tune of, Four-Pence-Half-Penny-Farthing.
This may be Printed, R. P.
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AWay with Cupids idle Darts
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what doth he mean I wonder,
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He makes a stir with breaking hearts,
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such grief I'le ne'r lye under:
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Fond Love is a folly, Boys we'l be Jolly,
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with me it shan't be Killing,
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Grand fools they are that counts her fair
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which is not kind, and willing.
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Some doating fools there is I know,
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will cringe and bow to Beauty
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And stand in fear of Cupids Bow,
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as counting it their Duty:
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Fond Love is a folly, Boys we'l be jolly,
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to me it shan't be Killing,
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Grand fools they are that counts her fair
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which is not kind and willing.
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Let me enjoy the charming Bowl
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of Liquor when in Season,
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It quickens e'ry Noble Soul,
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and Ripens all our Reason;
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Fond Love is a folly, Boys we'l be jolly,
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with me it shan't be Killing,
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Grand fools they are that counts her fair
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which is not kind and willing.
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Now fill the Glasses to the brim,
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for this will paint our Faces,
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And drink a full Carrouse to him
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that slights all fond embraces:
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Fond Love is a folly, Boys we'l be jolly,
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to me it shan't be Killing,
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Grand fools they are that counts her fair,
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which is not kind and willing.
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Fair Phillis once her Love did show
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to me, but once I lost her,
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I scorn'd the Tyrannizing Bow
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of Cupid that Impostor:
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Fond Love is a folly, Boys we'l be jolly,
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with me it shan't be Killing,
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Grand fools they are that counts her fair,
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which is not kind and willing.
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Since Cupid uses subtile Charms,
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I scornfully beheld him,
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I'le hugg the Bottle in my arms
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now may the D---- Geld him;
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Fond Love is a folly, Boys we'l be jolly,
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with me it shan't be Killing,
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Grand fools they are that counts her fair,
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which is not kind and willing.
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Now drink about and never spare,
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resolving to be merry,
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No Phillis in the World more fair
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then Glasses of Canary:
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Fond Love is a folly, Boys we'l be jolly,
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to me it shan't be Killing,
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Grand fools they are that counts her fair
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which is not kind and willing.
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Now he's an Ass that seems to dote,
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and waits a Womans Leisure,
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I'de have him learn to change his note
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with us enjoy true pleasure;
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Fond Love is a folly, Boys we'l be jolly,
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to me it shan't be Killing,
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Grand fools they are that counts her fair,
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which is not kind and willing.
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We'l lay our hearts a soak in Sack,
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it is a cure for Sadness,
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This Liquor never let us lack,
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since too much Love is Madness;
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Fond Love is a folly, Boys we'l be jolly,
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to me it shan't be Killing,
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Grand fools they are that counts her fair
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which is not kind and willing.
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I know there's few but love to sport,
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of all degrees I vow man,
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From jovial Gallants at the Court,
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to Country Ralph the Plow-man:
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For he'l be jolly, with Kate and Molly,
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who take delight in billing,
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Grand fools they are who count her fair,
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which is not kind and willing.
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