TO NEPTUNE

A health to King Neptune,

The boss of the wave!

Who sits on the Ocean

And makes it behave.

Come fill up your bumpers

And take a long pull!

When he's calm he's not dry —

When he rolls, he's not full.

Whether sober or rough,

He's always a sport,

And we'll never stop toasting him

Till we're in port.

A jolly old salt,

Though he smile or he frown.

So here's to King Neptune!

Fill up! Drink her down!

We drink your health, O Waiter!

And may you be preserved

From old age, gout, or sudden death!—

At least till supper's served.