"
~238~~
This is the day of Michaelmas.
Many would say, ay, "let that pass"
As a forgotten thing.
Not so with us, our rent we pay,
And do we not, on quarter-day,
Our taxes to the king?
Since, then, "our withers are unwrung,"
And we need wish no blister'd tongue
To creditors and duns,
Let's carve the goose, and quaff the wine,
And toast September twenty-nine,
Nor mark how fast time runs.
We've clone the same; that is, we've quaffd,
And sung, and danced, and drunk, and laugh'd,
When we were half seas over;
I don't mean tipsy, bless you, no!
But when we pass'd, like dart from bow,
Cowes Roads on board the Rover.
So pipe all hands; for though no gale
From sea-wash'd shores distend our sail,
We'll man a vessel here.
This room's our ship; this wine's our tide;
And the good friends we sit beside,
The messmates of our cheer.
Ay, this looks well; now till the glass
To king, to country, and our lass,
And all of pluck and feather;
That done around, and nothing loth,
Since we are "learned Thebans" both,
We'll have some talk together.
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