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!"
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May all your labors be in vein.
May all your labors be in vein.
Our country, however bounded.
Our country, however bounded.
Give me the cups,
And let the kettle to the trumpet speak,
The trumpet to the cannoneer read more
Give me the cups,
And let the kettle to the trumpet speak,
The trumpet to the cannoneer without,
The cannons to the heavens, the heaven to earth,
'Now the king drinks to Hamlet.'
May your glass be ever full
May the roof over your head be always strong,
And may read more
May your glass be ever full
May the roof over your head be always strong,
And may you be in heaven
Half an hour before the devil knows you're dead.
Here's a health to all those that we love,
Here's a health to all those that love us,
read more
Here's a health to all those that we love,
Here's a health to all those that love us,
Here's a health to all those that love them that love those
That love them that love those that love us.
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."
Weren't the last drop in the well,
As I gasp'd upon the brink,
Ere my fainting spirit read more
Weren't the last drop in the well,
As I gasp'd upon the brink,
Ere my fainting spirit fell,
'Tis to thee that I would drink.
Life, lift the full goblet--away with all sorrow--
The circle of friendship what freedom would sever?
To-day read more
Life, lift the full goblet--away with all sorrow--
The circle of friendship what freedom would sever?
To-day is our own, and a fig for to-morrow--
Here's to the Fourth and our country forever.
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.
