COME, pass round the pail, boys, and give it no quarter, Drink deep, and drink oft, and replenish your jugs, Fill up, and I'll give you a toast to your water -- The Turncock for ever! that opens the plugs! Then hey for a bucket, a bucket, a bucket, Then hey for a bucket, filled up to the brim! Or, best of all notions, let's have it by oceans, With plenty of room for a sink or a swim! Let topers of grape-juice exultingly vapour, But let us just whisper a word to the elves, We water roads, horses, silks, ribands, bank-paper, Plants, poets, and muses, and why not ourselves? Then hey for a bucket, &c. The vintage they cry, think of Spain's and of France's, The jigs, the boleros, fandangos, and jumps; But water's the spring of all civilised dances, We go to a ball not in bottles, but @3pumps!@1 Then hey for a bucket, &c. Let others of Dorchester quaff at their pleasure, Or honour old Meux with their thirsty regard -- We'll drink Adam's ale, and we get it @3pool@1 measure, Or quaff heavy wet from the butt in the yard! Then hey for a bucket, &c. Some flatter gin, brandy, and rum, on their merits, Grog, punch, and what not, that enliven a feast: 'Tis true that they stir up the animal spirits, But may not the animal turn out a beast? Then hey for a bucket, &c. The Man of the Ark, who continued our species, He saved us by water, -- but as for the wine, We all know the figure, more sad than facetious, He made after tasting the juice of the vine. Then hey for a bucket, &c. In wine let a lover remember his jewel And pledge her in bumpers fill'd brimming and oft; But we can distinguish the kind from the cruel, And toast them in water, the @3hard@1 or the @3soft.@1 Then hey for a bucket, &c. Some cross'd in their passion can never o'erlook it, But take to a pistol, a knife, or a beam; Whilst temperate swains are enabled to @3brook@1 it By help of a little meandering stream. Then hey for a bucket, &c. Should fortune diminish our cash's sum-total, Deranging our wits and our private affairs, Though some in such cases would fly to the bottle, There's nothing like water for drowning our cares. Then hey for a bucket, &c. See drinkers of water, their wits never lacking, Direct as a railroad and smooth in their gaits; But look at the bibbers of wine, they go tacking, Like ships that have met a foul wind in the @3straits.@1 Then hey for a bucket, &c. A fig then for Burgundy, Claret, or Mountain, A few scanty glasses must limit your wish, But he's the true toper that goes to the fountain, The drinker that verily "drinks like a fish!" Then hey for a bucket, &c. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MOLLY PITCHER [JUNE 28, 1778] by KATE BROWNLEE SHERWOOD ANTIMENIDAS by ALCAEUS OF MYTILENE THE TIDES by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT SEVEN SONNETS ON THE THOUGHT OF DEATH: 1 by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH SECOND WIFE by EMILY DAWSON CRAIN A LETTER TO THE LADY CAREY, AND MRS. ESSEX RICHE, FROM AMYENS by JOHN DONNE |