She tells me with claret she cannot agree, And she thinks of a hogshead whene'er she sees me; For I smell like a beast, and therefore must I Resolve to forsake her or claret deny: Must I leave my dear bottle that was always my friend, And I hope will continue so to my life's end? Must I leave it for her? 'tis a very hard task,— Let her go to the Devil, bring the other whole flask! Had she tax'd me with gaming and bade me forbear, 'Tis a thousand to one I had lent her an ear; Had she found out my Chloris up three pair of stairs, I had baulk'd her and gone to St. James's to pray'rs; Had she bid me read homilies three times a day, She perhaps had been humour'd with little to say; But at night to deny me my flask of dear red,— Let her go to the Devil, there's no more to be said! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 60. FAREWELL TO JULIET (9) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT INGRATEFUL [OR UNGRATEFUL] BEAUTY THREATENED by THOMAS CAREW BREST LEFT BEHIND by JOHN CHIPMAN FARRAR DISILLUSIONMENT OF TEN O'CLOCK by WALLACE STEVENS |