>>271758Who tames the lion now?
Who smoothes Jove’s wrinkles now?
Who is the reckless wight
That in the horrid middle
Of the deserted night
Doth play upon man’s brain,
As on a wanton fiddle,
The mad and magic strain,
The reeling, tripping sound,
To which the world goes round?
Sing heigh! ho! diddle!
And then say—
Love, quotha, Love? nay, nay!
It is a spirit fine
Of ale or ancient wine,
Lord Alcohol, the drunken fay,
Lord Alcohol alway!
II.
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