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The Tippling Philosophers
Democritus always was glad
To tipple and cherish his soul; And would laugh like a man that was mad,
When over a full flowing bowl: As long as his cellar was stor'd,
The liquor he'd merrily quaff ; And when he was drunk as a lord
At those that were sober he'd laugh.
Wise Solon, who carefully gave
Good laws unto Athens of old, And thought the rich Crcesus a slave,
Though a king, to his coffers of gold ; He delighted in plentiful bowls,
But, drinking, much talk would decline, Because 'twas the custom of fools
To prattle much over their wine.
Old Socrates ne'er was content,
Till a bottle had heighten'd his joys, Who in's cups to the oracle went,
Or he ne'er had been counted so wise Late hours he certainly lov'd,
Made wine the delight of his life, Or Xantippe would never have proved
Such a damnable scold of a wife.
Grave Seneca, fam'd for his parts, Who tutored the bully of Rome,
Grew wise o'er his cups and his quarts, Which he drank like a miser at home :
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