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