On bread alone though a man can’t thrive, 
Saint Luke says nothing of brandy; 
It may be the thing to keep us alive, 
And I see there’s a bottle handy. 
Open it Bill! There’s only Five. 
It may be the thing to keep us alive. 
  
The Road of Excess, said William Blake, 
To the Palace of Wisdom leads one; 
Open a bottle for Wisdom’s sake! 
And I am the boy that needs one. 
It’s a long, long way, but it’s good to take— 
Open a bottle for Mishter Blake! 
  
At the door of Burgess’ Fish Sauce Shop 
She stood, oh, how does it go, boys? 
Well, “truly rural” will do for the cop, 
If you say it quiet and slow, boys. 
Why the devil should anyone stop, 
When “truly rural” will do for the cop? 
  
I d’know ’f ’t struck you, i’ shtruck me 
Th’was somethin’ wrong with the pheasant. 
Say, how would a little drink, maybe— 
You’know, ’void an’thing ’npleasant? 
Say, doctor, d’you preschribe it, shee? 
W’d’y’ think, lil drink, maybe? 
  
’Fence o’ th’ Realm Act, I’m no fool, 
All tha’, Tha’s ri’, damnation! 
’Member, ’m I wazza boy a’ school, 
A-Thanks, Ol’ top, jus’ trench ration 
Zhero—overra top’sh my rule— 
’Member, ’n I wazza boy a’ school———