He that drinketh strong beer And goes to bed right mellow, Lives as he ought to live And dies a hearty fellow. Come, landlord, fill the flowing bowl Until it does run over, For tonight we'll merry, merry be, For tonight we'll merry, merry be, For tonight we'll merry, merry be, Tomorrow we'll get sober. He that drinketh small beer And goes to bed sober Falls as the leaves do fall That die in dull October. Come, etc. Punch cures the gout, The colic and phthisic; So it is to all men The best of physic. Come, etc. ... He that courts a pretty girl, And courts her for his pleasure, Is a knave unless he marries her Without store or treasure. Come, etc. ... So now let us dance and sing And drive away all sorrow,— For perhaps we may not Meet again tomorrow. Come, landlord, fill the flowing bowl... | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VERSES SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY ALEXANDER SELKIRK by WILLIAM COWPER SHUT OUT by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI EPIGRAM by DECIMUS MAGNUS AUSONIUS AND THE DREAMERS OF DREAMS by JOHN OSCAR BECK JULY IN MONTANA by LILLA BOGERT I'M DYING, COMRADE by MARY H. C. BOOTH EDGE OF THE DAY by BURL BREDON |