A cup of water fromthe spring, O, 'tia the most dolightful thing; Among all drinks this stands the firat, 'Twill surely quench one's raging thirat. Xow, my young lads, just ouly think, For three score years it's beeu my drink ; I've always passed by the saloon, Every morning, each iiight and noon. Thus, while journeying on my way, On a hot, sultry summer day, How tempting it is to pause a spell Beside the farmer's móssy well, To let the bucket gently down- That old bucket so dark and brown - Then draw it up. you may observe, I tilt the same on top the curb. 'Tis thus I drink, this drink is mine, It far excels your rum and wine ! 'Twill rival all the drinks you buy, So nicely made from corn and ryo. Thus while I'm froe to use my voioe, Cold water'll be my only choice ; The water cold, my constant drink, While I am free to act and think. Now, shall I ask the real sot, In winter's cold or when 'tis hot, If water does not meet his mind, More than all other drinks combined. If he's honest, no doubt he'll say, Just take my rum and gin away ; I henceforth desire, without fail, To be supplied with Adam's ale. I ask that youth, each boy and fop, Who oft frequent the drinking shop, To change his course, to pause awhile, ïio longer drink that stuff so vile ! Sit down that glass ' drink water cold ! That you may live till you are old ; Then at the close of liie may you Die with heaven in your view.