The Claret Drinker's SONG: OR, The Good Fellows Design.  By a Person of Quality. 

APOX of the Fooling and Plotting of late,  
What a Pother and Stir has it kept in the State?  
Let the Rabble run mad with Suspicions and Fears;  
Let 'em Scuffle and jar, till they go by the Ears;  
Their Grievances never shall trouble my Pate,  
So I can but enjoy my dear Bottle at quiet.   

What Coxcombs were those, who would barter their Ease,  
And their Necks, for a Toy, a thin Wafer and Mass?  
At Old Tyburn they never had needed to swing,  
Had they been but true Subjects to Drink, and their King:  
A Friend and a Bottle is all my Design,  
H'as no room for Treason, that's topful of Wine.   

I mind not the Members and Makers of Laws,  
Let 'em Sat or Prorogue as His Majesty please;  
Let 'em damn us to Woollen, I'll never repine  
At my Lodging when dead, so alive I have Wine.  
Yet oft in my Drink I can hardly forbear,  
To Curse 'em, for making my Claret so dear.   

I mind not grave Asses, who idly debate  
About Right and Succession, the Trifles of State;  
We've a good King already, and he deserves laughter,  
That will trouble his head with who shall come after.  
Come here's to his health, and I wish he may be  
As free from all care and all trouble as we.   

What care I how Leagues with the Hollander go,  
Or Intrigues betwixt Sidney and Monsieur d'Avaux;  
What concerns it my Drinking if Cazall be sold,  
If the Conqueror takes it by storming or Gold;  
Good Bourdeaux alone is the place that I mind,  
And when the Fleet's coming, I pray for a Wind.   

The Bully of France, that aspires to Renown,  
By dull Cutting of Throats and venturing his own:  
Let him fight and be damned, and make Matches and treat,  
To afford News-mongers and Coffee house chat:  
He's but a brave Wretch, whilst I am more free,  
More safe, and a thousand times happier than he.   

Come he or the Pope, or the Devil to boot;  
Or come Faggot and Stake, I care not a Groat:  
Never think that in Smithfield I Porters will heat:  
No I swear Mr. Fox pray excuse me for that.  
I'll drink in Defiance of Gibbet and Halter,  
This is the Profession that never will alter.   
FINIS.   

LONDON, Printed 1680.