THE Pope he leads a happy life, He fears not married care nor strife. He drinks the best of Rhenish wine, -- I would the Pope's gay lot were mine. But yet all happy's not his life, He has no maid, nor blooming wife; No child has he to raise his hope, -- I would not wish to be the Pope. The Sultan better pleases me, His is a life of jollity; He's wives as many as he will, -- I would the Sultan's throne then fill. But even he's a wretched man, He must obey the Alcoran; He dare not drink one drop of wine -- I would not change his lot for mine. So here I'll take my lowly stand, I'll drink my own, my native land; I'll kiss my maiden fair and fine, And drink the best of Rhenish wine. And when my maiden kisses me I'll think that I the Sultan be; And when my cheery glass I tope, I'll fancy then I am the Pope. |