Ye sons of Bacchus, come and join In solemn dirge, while tapers shine Around the grape-embossed shrine Of honest Harry Bellendine. Pour the rich juice of Bordeaux wine, Mixed with your falling tears of brine, In just libations o'er the shrine Of honest Harry Bellendine. Your brows let ivy chaplets twine, While you push round the sparkling wine, And let your table be the shrine Of honest Harry Bellendine. |