Wednesday, April 17, 2013


Beer and Women
While I’m at the tavern quaffing,
  Well disposed for t’other quart,
Come’s my wife to spoil my laughing,
  Telling me ’tis time to part:
Words I knew, were unavailing,
  Yet I sternly answered, No!
‘Till from motives more prevailing,
  Sitting down she treads my toe:
Such kind tokens to my thinking,
  Most emphatically prove
That the joys that flow from drinking,
  Are averse to those of love.
Farewell friends and t’other bottle,
  Since I can no longer stay,
Love more learn’d than Aristotle,
  Has, to move me, found the way.

17th Century, Anonymous

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