there a big-belly'd bottle still eases my care.

the wife of my bosom, alas! she did die;

for sweet consolation to church i did fly;

i found that old solomon proved it fair,

that a big-belly'd bottle's a cure for all care.

i once was persuaded a venture to make;

a letter inform'd me that all was to wreck;

but the pursy old landlord just waddl'd upstairs,

with a glorious bottle that ended my cares.

“life's cares they are comforts”—a maxim laid down

by the bard, what d'ye call him, that wore the black gown;

and faith i agree with th' old prig to a hair,

for a big-belly'd bottle's a heav'n of a care.