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A Tankard of Ale |
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BALLADE OF LIQUID REFRESHMENT
By E. C. Bentley
Last night we started with some dry vermouth ; Some ancient sherry, with a golden glow ; Then many flagons of the soul of fruit Such as Burgundian vineyards only grow ; A bottle each of port was not ie trop ; And then old brandy till the east was pink —But talking makes me hoarse as any crow, Excuse me while I go and have a drink.
Some talk of Alexander : some impute Absorbency to Mirabeau-Tonneau; Some say that General Grant and King Canute, Falstaff and Pitt and Edgar Allan Poe, Prince Charlie, Carteret, Hans Breitmann—so The list goes on—they say that these could clink The can, and take their liquor—A propos ! Excuse me while I go and have a drink.
Spirit of all that lives, from God to brute, Spirit of love and life, of sun and snow, Spirit of leaf and limb, of race and root, How wonderfully art thou prison'd ! Lo ! I quaff the cup, I feel the magic flow, And Superman succeeds to Missing Link, (I say, " I quaff " ; but am I quaffing ? No ! Excuse me while I go and have a drink.)
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