WHY, in this clever age,
So "point-device,"
Is there no beverage
Cool, cheap, and nice?
It's safe to rile ye,
Dog-days being here,
When you're charged highly
For iced ginger-beer.
Who can be placid
When sixpence is paid
For sweet citric acid
Dubbed lemonade?
Is there no substitute
Which we may quaff
For tea with milk dilute,
Or shandy-gaff?
A sheer abuse is
Ice joined to beer;
Our gastric juices
Hate it, and fear;
Half-pint-partakers,
When weather's hot,
Barons or bakers,
All go to pot.
Should spirits tempt you,
Need it be said
Nought can exempt you
From a racked head,
Just like poor SISERA?
Soda's a snare?
Milk clogs the viscera;
Of "fizz" beware!
Brandy each new nipper
Maketh go mad;
Juice of the juniper,
_You_'re berry bad!
Now that so many men
Counsel "Abstain!"
It's _rum_ that any men
Drink to their bane.
In this heat tropical,
He's a true friend
Who, philanthropical,
Bids our thirst end.
Will no inventor
Try a new shot?
Here our hopes centre:
Who is our WATT?
Our British livers
Don't care a rap
For "corpse-revivers,"--
A nauseous tap!
Drink for the Million!
Nor dear or heady;
Bring me a chilly one--
_But none is ready!_
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