But ah! disasters have their use; And life might e'en be too sunshiny.

But what is coffee, but a noxious berry, Born to keep used-up Londoners awake?

Precious to me - it is the Dinner Bell. Oh blessed Bell! Thou bringest beef and beer.

Go mad, and beat their wives; Plunge (after shocking lives) Razors and carving knives Into their gizzards.

Meaning, however, is no great matter.

Oh Beer! Oh Hodgson, Guinness, Allsop, Bass! Names that should be on every infant's tongue! Shall days and months and years and centuries pass, And still your merits be unrecked, unsung?

The heart which grief hath cankered, Hath one unfailing remedy - the Tankard.