Now is the winter of our frozen spawn Made brilliant summer by this bold Sir John Who quaffeth, qoth, and quaffeth yet again Til all the pubs of Hull would not contain the man. Lift then your glasses, schooners, pints and specs To one whose virtue to us all doth beck, To strive to meet; and when the strife is gone, Know you have drunk as much as drunk Sir john! Hamworthy Shettlefielde Poet-Laureate of Dwindlin-on-Touch, Humberside, 1929
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