LINES, Written with a Pencil in
a Tap-Room. __ THIS warl’s a Tap-Room
owre an’ owre, Whare ilk ane tak’s his caper, Some taste the sweet, some
drink the sour, As WAITER FATE sees proper; Let mankind live, ae social
core, An’ drap a’ selfish quar’ling, An’ when the LANDLORD ca’s his score, May ilk ane’s clink be sterling. |