The Tomb

Come hither, my lads, with your tankards of ale,And drink to the present before it shall fail;Pile each on your platter a mountain of beef,For 'tis eating and drinking that bring us relief:So fill up your glass,For life will soon pass;When you're dead ye'll ne'er drink to your king or your lass!

Anacreon had a red nose, so they say;But what's a red nose if ye're happy and gay?Gad split me! I'd rather be red whilst I'm here,Than white as a lily—and dead half a year!So Betty, my miss,Come give me a kiss;In hell there's no innkeeper's daughter like this!

Young Harry, propp'd up just as straight as he's able.Will soon lose his wig and slip under the table;But fill up your goblets and pass 'em around—Better under the table than under the ground!So revel and chaffAs ye thirstily quaff:Under six feet of dirt 'tis less easy to laugh!

The fiend strike me blue! I'm scarce able to walk.And damn me if I can stand upright or talk!Here, landlord, bid Betty to summon a chair;I'll try home for a while, for my wife is not there!So lend me a hand;I'm not able to stand.But I'm gay whilst I linger on top of the land!