THE HAPPY FELLOW

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With my jug in one hand, and my pipe in the other,
I drink to my neighbour and friend;
My cares in a whiff of tobacco I smother,
For life, I know, shortly must end.
While Ceres, most kindly, refills my brown jug,
With good ale, I will make myself mellow;
In my old wicker chair, I will sear myself snug,
Like a jolly and true happy fellow.
Like a jolly, like a jolly, like a jolly and true
happy fellow.

I'll ne'er trouble my head with the cares of the nation,
My own being all I need mind,
For the cares of this life are but grief and vexation,
To death we must all be consign'd.
Then I'll laugh, drink, and smoke, and leave nothing to pay,
But drop, like a pear that is mellow,
And, when cold in my coffin, I'll leave them to say,
"He' gone! What a hearty good fellow!"

English poetry.