Bacchanalian Songs, SONG

Banish sorrow, grief's a folly, Thought unbend thy wrinkled brow; Hence dull care and melancholy, Mirth and joy invite us now; Bacchus empties all his treasure, Comus brings us wit and song; Follow, follow, follow pleasure, Let us join the jovial throng.

The love-sick swain who sighs and simpers, T'other bottle would set free; Nor artful smiles, nor am'rous whimpers, E'er could fetter you or me: We for courtship have no leisure, Bumpers yeild us better joy; Follow, follow, follow pleasure, While thus mirth our time employ.

Why then should dull care perplex us, Why should we not jovial be? Since we're here we've nought to vex us, Bumpers set from care all free: Then let's have bumpers without measure, Let's be gay while time we have; Follow, follow, follow pleasure, There's no drinking in the grave.