Chorus

Then laugh and drink, And never think; Each frisky festive fellow Will seize the time, The season’s prime, T’ enjoy the fruit while mellow.

The heights of love we can’t attain, Till wine’s electric potion Reach the summit of the brain, To quicken Fancy’s motion: Then Nature’s still, with rapid flow, In am’rous fermentation, Fills thro’ THE WORM the vat below With luscious distillation.

When safe arriv’d our LATTER END, And time to dust shall grind us, Our atoms can’t the eyes offend Of neighbours left behind us: If with the heart-expanding bowl, Inspiring love and laughter, We soak the body and the soul, ’Twill lay the dust hereafter.

The hardy tars more valiant fight, The soldiers sally quicker, The poets with more spirit write, When charg’d with conqu’ring liquor: And to sorrow-sinking hearts Wine’s the true salvation; For, take enough, and soon departs Suspended animation.

His journey soon must end, they say, Who drives thro’ life so quickly; And, ere in years his hair turn gray, His body will be sickly: If Velnos’ Syrup he pursue, ’Twill strengthen trunk and twig, Sir; And if his hair should change its hue, He can but mount a wig, Sir.

Kind Fortune, fix the jolly soul On Plenty’s full-plum’d pinion, To soar beyond the sad control Of Poverty’s dominion; And when, with eager fatal claw, You take him by the throttle, His precious cork of life to draw, O Death! don’t shake the bottle.