S —“N Ch h A I”（1 / 1）

ng—“no churchan a i”

tune—“prepare, y dear brethren, to the tavern let&039;s fly”

no churchan a i for to rail and to write,

no statesan nor ldier to plot or to fight,

no sly an of bess ntrivg a snare,

for a big-belly&039;d bottle&039;s the whole of y care

the peer i don&039;t envy, i give hi his bow;

i srn not the peasant, though ever low;

but a cb of good fellows, like those that are here,

and a bottle like this, are y glory and care

here passes the sire on his brother—his horse;

there centu per centu, the cit with his purse;

but see you the crown how it waves the air?

there a big-belly&039;d bottle still eases y care

the wife of y bo, as! she did die;

for sweet ntion to church i did fly;

i found that old loon proved it fair,

that a big-belly&039;d bottle&039;s a cure for all care

i once was persuaded a venture to ake;

a letter r&039;d that all was to wreck;

but the pursy old ndlord jt waddl&039;d upstairs,

with a glorio bottle that ended y cares

“life&039;s cares they are forts”—a axi id down

by the bard, what d&039;ye call hi, that wore the bck gown;

and faith i agree with th&039; old prig to a hair,

for a big-belly&039;d bottle&039;s a heav&039;n of a care