Hail noble fruit! — by Homer sung,
Anacreon and Khayyam;
Thy praise is ever on the tongue
Of better men than I am.
The lyre my hand has never swept,
The song I cannot offer:
My humbler service pray accept —
I’ll help to kill the scoffer.
The water-drinkers and the cranks
Who load their skins with liquor —
I’ll gladly bare their belly-tanks
And tap them with my sticker.
Fill up, fill up, for wisdom cools
When e’er we let the wine rest.
Here’s death to Prohibition’s fools,
And every kind of vine-pest!