I've found an earlier printing of the modern tune, but by less than a decade, in the anonymous "Home Melodist: A Collection of Songs and Ballads" (Boston, 1859).

The lyrics:

COME LANDLORDS [sic] FILL YOUR FLOWING BOWL

Chorus:

Come landlords fill your flowing bowl,
Until it doth run over.
Come landlords fill your flowing bowl
Until it doth run over.
For tonight we'll merry, merry be,
For tonight we'll merry, merry be,
For tonight we'll merry, merry be,
Tomorrow we'll get sober.

[Solos similarly:]

The man that drinks good whiskey punch
And goes to bed mellow,...
Lives as he ought to live...
And dies a clever fellow.

The man that drinks cold water, boys,
And goes to bed sober...
Falls as the leaves do fall...
And dies in October.

But he who drinks just what he likes,
And getteth "half seas over,"...
Will live until he dies, perhaps,...
And then lay down in clover.

(The lining up of the slang "half seas over" with the archaic-poetic "getteth" suggests a sophisticated lyricist.)

According to Steve Roud's Index (including a transcription by Baring-Gould), the tune had already appeared in "Davidson's Universal Melodist," II (London, 1848).

An 1854 Glasgow printing of the 1828-29 broadside words identifies the tune as "The Sports of Bacchus."

I've found no printing of the tune under this title. The following lyric, however, does concern Bacchus, was reprinted several times, and perfectly fits the tune. Traditional Tune Archive says it appeared in Charles Coffey's opera, "The Devil to Pay" (1731).

From "A Complete Collection of Old and New English and Scotch Songs, with Their Respective Tunes Prefixed" (1736) to the tune of "Charles of Sweden," which, regrettably, seems to bear a only vague resemblance to the "Flowing Bowl" tune (thanks due again to TTA):


Come, jolly Bacchus, god of wine,
Crown this night with pleasure:
Let none at cares of life repine,
To destroy our pleasure.
Fill up the mighty sparkling bowl,
That ev'ry true and mighty soul
May drink and sing without controul [sic]
To support our pleasure.

Thus, mighty Bacchus, shalt thou be
Guardian to our pleasure;
That, under your protection we
May enjoy new pleasure:
And, as the hours glide swift away,
We'll in thy name invoke thy stay,
And sing thy praises that we may,
Live and die with pleasure.