Gie him strong drink until he wink, That's sinking in despair; An'liquor guid to fire his bluid, That's prest wi' grief an' care: There let him bowse, and deep carouse, Wi' bumpers flowing o'er, Till he forgets his loves or debts, An' minds his griefs no more...

Thou art the life o' public haunts;
But thee, what were our fairs and rants ?
Ev'n godly meetings o' the saunts,
By thee inspir'd,
When, gaping they besiege the tents,
Are doubly fir'd.