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RAIL NO MORE (M. Wood Hill) Rail no more, ye learned asses, 'Gainst the joys the bowl supplies. Sound its depth and fill your glasses, Wisdom at the bottom lies. Fill them higher still and higher: Shallow draughts perplex the brain. Sipping quenches all our fire: Bumpers light it up again. Sipping quenches all our fire: Bumpers light it up again. Draw the scene for wit and pleasure, Enter jollity and joy; We for thinking have no leisure; Manly mirth is our employ. Since in life there's nothing certain We'll the present hour engage; And when death shall drop the curtain, With applause we'll quit the stage. And when death shall drop the curtain, With applause we'll quit the stage. @drink filename[ RAILNMOR JY |
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