My time, O ye Grattans, was happily spent, When Bacchus went with me wherever I went; For then I did nothing but sing, laugh and jest -- Was ever a toper so merrily blest? But now I so cross and so peevish am grown Because I must go to my wife back to town -- To the fondling and toying of "honey" and "dear," And the conjugal comforts of horrid small beer. My daughter I ever was pleased to see Come fawning and begging to ride on my knee. My wife too was pleased, and to the child said, "Come, hold in your belly and hold up your head." But now out of humor I, with a sour look, Cry, "Hussy!" and give her a souse with my book. And I'll give her another -- for why should she play, Since my Bacchus and glasses and friends are away? Wine, what of thy delicate hue is become, That tinged our glasses with blue like a plum? Those bottles, those bumpers, why do they not smile While we sit carousing and drinking the while? Ah bumpers! I see that our wine is all done; Our mirth falls, of course, when our Bacchus is gone. Then since it is so, bring here a supply; Begone, froward wife, for I'll drink till I die! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE GREAT DEATH by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE CENTER OF GRAVITY by DAVID IGNATOW BRER RABBIT, YOU'S DE CUTES' OF 'EM ALL by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE BLACK MAMMY by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON CLARK STREET BRIDGE by CARL SANDBURG GOOD-BYE DOROTHY GAYLE: OVER THE MACKINAC by KAREN SWENSON |