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Article WHISKY: AN IRISH BACCHANALIAN SONG. ← Page 2 of 3 →
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Whisky: An Irish Bacchanalian Song.
Be sure I don't remember now , - Dear little baby , how I smil'd , When first the Whisky met my brow , . Sure never was so sweet a child ! When brawling in . my mammy's lap , My little life at risque , ye know , 'Tis said I ne ' er could touch the pap Till moisten'd well with Whisky , Of .
In Dublin where I went to school , Be sure not over flush of cash , I never spent it like a fool , In toys , in gewgaws , or in trash : The master , often wonder'd what Made' Murphy's son so frisky , O ; 'Twas ' cause-each doit that Padd }' . got
Was slily spent in Whisky , 0 ! 3 Twas there I learn'd great Amnion ' s son Was poison'd with a Persian cup , Which , arrah I sure , had ne ' er been done Had it been fill'd with Whisky up I For sure no sober man can think , -Tho' it might make him . brisk or so ,
That any Babylonish drink Was half so good as Whisky , O ! Anacreon , wine's blooming bard , Squeez'd in his bowl the ruddy grape , With Whisky no more to be compar'd Than human creature with an ape ! For though at wakes it made him '
gas , And caus'd the strains flow briskly , Of lud how lie would have baivl'd away , Had he been warm'd with Whisky , O ! Jove hearing Ireland was possess'd Of liquor to the Gods unknown , Sent for a noggin of the best , And having got it gulp'd it down . ;
Away ran Ganymede in haste For more on't at the self-same shop , That ev ' ry one might have a taste ; — , E ' en chaste Diana took a drop .
It flew like lightning to each sconce , And play'd it ' s part so briskly , O , They rose and swore by Styx at once , They'd ne'er drink aught but Whisky , 01 The Thund're ' r having ta ' en his fill , -. Became so vastly tipsy , O , , He kick'd poor Bacchus down the hill , Who , tumbling , cry'd out , Whisky , Of
Then calling Iris , alias Peg , He bade her soon prepare to go To his brother Pluto with a keg , And tell him it was Whisky , O < His sable godship taking some ,-became so wond ' rous frisky , 0 ! That Pluto soon hung out the broom . And made another heav'n below . Z 2 2
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Whisky: An Irish Bacchanalian Song.
Be sure I don't remember now , - Dear little baby , how I smil'd , When first the Whisky met my brow , . Sure never was so sweet a child ! When brawling in . my mammy's lap , My little life at risque , ye know , 'Tis said I ne ' er could touch the pap Till moisten'd well with Whisky , Of .
In Dublin where I went to school , Be sure not over flush of cash , I never spent it like a fool , In toys , in gewgaws , or in trash : The master , often wonder'd what Made' Murphy's son so frisky , O ; 'Twas ' cause-each doit that Padd }' . got
Was slily spent in Whisky , 0 ! 3 Twas there I learn'd great Amnion ' s son Was poison'd with a Persian cup , Which , arrah I sure , had ne ' er been done Had it been fill'd with Whisky up I For sure no sober man can think , -Tho' it might make him . brisk or so ,
That any Babylonish drink Was half so good as Whisky , O ! Anacreon , wine's blooming bard , Squeez'd in his bowl the ruddy grape , With Whisky no more to be compar'd Than human creature with an ape ! For though at wakes it made him '
gas , And caus'd the strains flow briskly , Of lud how lie would have baivl'd away , Had he been warm'd with Whisky , O ! Jove hearing Ireland was possess'd Of liquor to the Gods unknown , Sent for a noggin of the best , And having got it gulp'd it down . ;
Away ran Ganymede in haste For more on't at the self-same shop , That ev ' ry one might have a taste ; — , E ' en chaste Diana took a drop .
It flew like lightning to each sconce , And play'd it ' s part so briskly , O , They rose and swore by Styx at once , They'd ne'er drink aught but Whisky , 01 The Thund're ' r having ta ' en his fill , -. Became so vastly tipsy , O , , He kick'd poor Bacchus down the hill , Who , tumbling , cry'd out , Whisky , Of
Then calling Iris , alias Peg , He bade her soon prepare to go To his brother Pluto with a keg , And tell him it was Whisky , O < His sable godship taking some ,-became so wond ' rous frisky , 0 ! That Pluto soon hung out the broom . And made another heav'n below . Z 2 2