The bubble winked at me, and said,
"You'll miss me brother, when you're dead."

The bubble winked at me, and said,
"You'll miss me brother, when you're dead."

Here's a health to the lass with the merry black eyes!
Here's a health to the lad with the read more

Here's a health to the lass with the merry black eyes!
Here's a health to the lad with the blue ones!

Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen;
Here's to the widow of fifty;
Here's to the flaunting, read more

Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen;
Here's to the widow of fifty;
Here's to the flaunting, extravagant quean;
And here's to the housewife that's thrifty.
(Chorus:) Let the toast pass,--
Drink to the lass,
I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass.

The wind that blows, the ship that goes
And the lass the loves a sailor.

The wind that blows, the ship that goes
And the lass the loves a sailor.

May you live all the days of your life.

May you live all the days of your life.

I, whenever I see thee, thirst, and holding the cup, apply it to
my lips more for thy sake read more

I, whenever I see thee, thirst, and holding the cup, apply it to
my lips more for thy sake than for drinking.

A glass is good, and a lass is good,
And a pipe to smoke in cold weather;
read more

A glass is good, and a lass is good,
And a pipe to smoke in cold weather;
The world is good and the people are good,
And we're all good fellows together.

You to the left and I to the right,
For the ways of men must sever--
And read more

You to the left and I to the right,
For the ways of men must sever--
And it may be for a day and a night,
And it well may be forever.
But whether we meet or whether we part,
(For our ways are past our knowing)
A pledge from the heart to its fellow heart,
On the ways we all are going!
Here's luck!
For we know not where we are going.

St. Leon raised his kindling eye,
And lifts the sparkling cup on high;
"I drink to one," read more

St. Leon raised his kindling eye,
And lifts the sparkling cup on high;
"I drink to one," he said,
"Whose image never may depart,
Deep graven on this grateful heart,
Till memory be dead."
. . . .
St. Leon paused, as if he would
Not breathe her name in careless mood
Thus lightly to another;
Then bent his noble head, as though
To give the word the reverence due,
And gently said, "My mother!"