Fathom the bowl

 

Verse 1

Come all you bold heroes, attend to my song,
I'll speak in the praise of good brandy and rum;
When the cold crystal fountain does over us roll,
Give me the punch ladle, I'll fathom the bowl.

Verse 2

From France we get brandy, from Jamaica run;
Fine oranges and lemons from Portugal come;
Good strong beer and cider in England is sold -
Give me the punch ladle I'll fathom the bowl.

Verse 3

My wife she comes in and she sits at her ease,
She scolds and she brawls and does as she please;
She may scold and she may brawl till she's as back as the coal -
Give me the punch ladle, I'll fathom the bowl.

Verse 4

My father he lies in the depths of the sea,
Cold rocks for his pillow, what matters to he!
When the cold crystal fountain does over us roll,
Give me the punch ladle, I'll fathom the bowl.

Toast to follow the song.

Here's to the large bee that flies so high!
The small bee gathers the honey;
The poor man he does all the work,
And the rich man pockets the money.