Oh! ’twould have done you good to see
How keen, how long, how heartily
He pushed the liquor round:
He never left or spilt a drop;
He never let the bottle stop,
Nor uttered a sound.
And, strange to tell, the jovial fay,
Though fond of wine, had nought to say.
A man of words might never learn
To be so wondrous taciturn.
And now the song, with jovial strain,
Awakened midnight’s dull repose;
Though many pleaded colds in vain,
Ayes had the ’vantage still of noes:
And thus may rulers ever be
Supported by majority.[7]