Charles Cotton (1630-1687), "Chanson a Boire," in his Poems on Several Occasions
(London: Printed for Tho. Bassett..., 1689), pp. 74-75:
Come let's mind our drinking,
Away with this thinking;
It ne'er, that I heard of, did anyone good;
Prevents not disaster,
But brings it on faster,
Mischance is by mirth and by courage withstood.
He ne'er can recover
The day that is over,
The present is with us and does threaten no ill;
He's a Fool that will sorrow
For the thing call'd to morrow,
But the hour we've in hand we may weild as we will.
There's nothing but Bacchus
Right merry can make us,
That vertue particular is to the Vine;
It fires ev'ry creature
With wit and good nature,
Whose thoughts can be dark when their noses doe shine?
A night of good drinking
Is worth a year's thinking,
There's nothing that kills us so surely as sorrow;
Then to drown our cares Boys,
Let's drink up the stars Boys,
Each face of the gang will a Sun be to morrow.