DRINKING, DRINKING, DRINKING OLD GERMAN TRINK-LIED Edward Oxenford [translator?]
1. In cellar cool at ease I sit, upon a barrel resting. In merry mood I loudly call, the finest wine requesting. The cellarman, the beaker fills. My lips I soon am linking, And deep and long the luscious draught I'm drinking, drinking, drinking.
2. That demon thirst is quite a plague, but so that I may scare him, Again I raise the beaker high, and, boldly quaffing, dare him. The world seems cloth'd in rosy tints. Its clouds to nought are shrinking. I feel a friend to ev'ry man while drinking, drinking, drinking.
3. But still I find the more I drink, the more my thirst increases. In fact, a toper's lot is this: his craving seldom ceases! Yet never mind; the day is long, and till the sun is sinking, My duty to good wine I'll do by drinking, drinking, drinking.