While the little boys cry 'merry Christmas is coming,'
Shall I be as dull as a water-drunk log?
No! I'll sing you a song (for we bards must be humming)
And the burden shall still be, Beware of Egg-nog.

When the bowl mantles over the elegant foam,
And the steam rises up in a silvery tog;
Put by the potation, keep Reason at home,
And think of my warning, Beware of Egg-nog.

When Circe, the witch, caught Ulysses's men,
She gave each a dram that soon made him a hog;
The identical mixture--'tis now as 'twas then;
So attend to the moral, Beware of Egg-nog.

When the circle is form'd, the glass passes round,
Old Satan draws night, tho', as usual, incog.,
And chuckles to see good Sobriety drown'd--
Would you frustrate his malice--Beware of Egg-nog.

But why do I rail at one liquor this way?
Is no other as fatal; rum, brandy, or grog?
Yes, yes, they're all one, I mean all when I say,
And I'll say but once more now, Beware of Egg-nog.


This poem first appeared in The American Beacon (December 24, 1817.)
It is now in the public domain.