From The bacchanalian magazine; and Cyprian enchantress, pp21-2, 1793.

listen to the tune (midi file)

THE BLADISH BRITON.--Tune--Over the Water to Charley.'

 Ye Rakehells so jolly,
 Who hate melancholy,
 And love a full flask and a doxy;
 Who ne'er from Love's feats,
 Like a coward retreats,
 Afraid that the harlot shall pox ye;
 While we live till we die.
 To the Shakespear let's fly,
 Where we shall find both in great plenty;
 With the juice of the vine,
 Our senses refine,
 And drink till the hogshead is empty.
 
 Now each joyous fellow,
 While thus we are mellow,
 And the fumes of the grape does inspire;
 While that's to be had,
 Let's be damnably mad,
 And fling all our calps in the fire:
 Break bottles and glasses,
 Bilk landlord and lasses,
 What rascal our humour dare hinder?
 If any presume
 To come into the room,
 We'll throw the dog out of the window.
 
 Here, waiter, more liquor;
 Zounds, man! bring it quicker;
 Champaigne, by all true topers courted;
 Without these damn'd tricks,
 French brandy to mix,
 But genuine neat as imported:
 While thus cherry merry,
 Let Harris* and Derry**
 With faces uncommon supply us:
 Poll French, and Bett Weeyms,
 And such batter'd old brims,
 Ye pimps, let them never come nigh us.
 
 Like Quixote of old,
 As we have been told,
 Let's sally in search of adventures;
 Mother Johnson we'll rout,
 Kick her bullies about,
 And knock known the Watch, if he enters.
 Drink and whore all our lives,
 Lie with other men's wives,
 Attempt ev'ry damsel we hit on;
 D--n and swear, and tell lies,
 'Flagellation' despise--
 And this is the life of a Briton. 
 
 *The Proprietor of 'Harris's List of Covent Garden Ladies.'
 **The Editor of the same Work.