Use and Abuse

Teetotlers may jaw 'boot the drink as they will,
An' preach till they're black i' the muzzle,
Maw Feyther an' Muther byeth lik'd a good gill,
And their son tee mun weeten his whussel.
Guid yell hes dune mair for to warm a man's breest,
When misfortun' hes cum wiv his hammer,
Than a thoosan' dry sermons frae ranterfied priest,
'At gets paid for his lees an' his yammer.

Folk talk aboot drink: was the grapes sent for nowt
But to stuff i' wor dumplins an' hinnies?
If the goold frae the yerth, man, had niver been browt,
Smash! the mint cuddent coin monny guinnees.
Because a man's hung, mun we myek nee mair twine?
Mun we starve 'cas some fyeulls gormandizes?
If a keel gets upset, mun we shut up the Tyne?
Man! sec humbug yen's reason surprizes.

Aw knaw yen 'at's torn'd a Teetotaller noo,
An 'laps up the fizzify'd wetter:
But aw find, on the slee, he his toddy can brew,
For his beak is to brandy a debtor.
His wife, she gat hauld o' the key ov his box,
Iv a raw the black bottles was pleyc'd in;
Like as fizzick frae doctors, a' labell'd, by gox!
But the wife she gat mortal with tyestin'!

Wey, its deeth, nevvies warse, if to't yell hoose ye gan,
For a glass, an' to hear some fine singin';
They sweer that the lan'lord's the Deevil's best man,
An' the band's nowt but imps ov his bringin'.
Man, they're spited to see that thor hooses hes sprung
Frae the seed o'lang patience an' merit;
Smash! they're awn dizzy consarts is shemfully sung,
For their sangs, like thorsels, hes nee sperrit.

Aw divvent praise fyeulls, that like pigs i' the muck,
Gan gruntin' an' guzzlin' for ivver;
There's nee ' casion to soom i' the drink like a duck,
But just sup what'll meyk a chep clivvor.
Noo, ye knaw varry weel what King Solomon says,
An' he dissent mean gluttons to 'tice man;
"Eat, drink, an' be merry to lenthen your days"--
An', by gox! but aw'll tyek his advice, man.

Click here for the tune. ^^