Drinking Song: Poem by John Fletcher

DRINK to-day, and drown all sorrow,
You shall perhaps not do it tomorrow.
Best, while you have it, use your breath;
There is no drinking after death.

Wine works the heart up, wakes the wit;
There is no cure 'gainst age but it.
It helps the headache, cough, and tisic,
And is for all diseases physic.

Then let us swill, boys, for our health;
Who drinks well, loves the commmonwealth.
And he that will to bed go sober,
Falls with the leaf still in October.

Analysis of this poem