The wine in the bottell doth not quench thirst.
[The wine in the bottle does not quench thirst.]

The wine in the bottell doth not quench thirst.
[The wine in the bottle does not quench thirst.]

You cannot know wine by the barrell.
[You cannot know the wine by the barrel.]

You cannot know wine by the barrell.
[You cannot know the wine by the barrel.]

So Noah, when he anchor'd safe on
The mountain's top, his lofty haven,
And all the passengers read more

So Noah, when he anchor'd safe on
The mountain's top, his lofty haven,
And all the passengers he bore
Were on the new world set ashore,
He made it next his chief design
To plant and propagate a vine,
Which since has overwhelm'd and drown'd
Far greater number, on dry ground,
Of wretched mankind, one by one,
Than all the flood before had done.

John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
Of noble enterprise,
For if you do but taste his blood,
read more

John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
Of noble enterprise,
For if you do but taste his blood,
'Twill make your courage rise,
Twill make a man forget his wo;
'Twill heighten all his joy.

Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging: and whoever is
deceived thereby is not wise.

Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging: and whoever is
deceived thereby is not wise.

Few things surpass old wine; and they may preach
Who please, the more because they preach in vain,--
read more

Few things surpass old wine; and they may preach
Who please, the more because they preach in vain,--
Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter,
Sermons and soda-water the day after.

Firm and erect the Caledonian stood;
Sound was his mutton, and his claret good;
"Let him drink read more

Firm and erect the Caledonian stood;
Sound was his mutton, and his claret good;
"Let him drink port!" the English statesman cried:
He drank the poison, and his spirit died.

Old Simon the cellarer keep a rare store
Of Malmsey and Malvoisie.

Old Simon the cellarer keep a rare store
Of Malmsey and Malvoisie.

Sing! Who sings
To her who weareth a hundred rings?
Ah, who is this lady fine?
read more

Sing! Who sings
To her who weareth a hundred rings?
Ah, who is this lady fine?
The Vine, boys, the Vine!
The mother of the mighty Wine,
A roamer is she
O'er wall and tree
And sometimes very good company.