Here's to the red of it,
There's not a thread of it,
No, not a shred of read more

Here's to the red of it,
There's not a thread of it,
No, not a shred of it,
In all the spread of it,
From foot to head,
Not heroes bled for it,
Faced steel and lead for it,
Precious blood shed for it,
Bathing in red.

Drink to me with thine eyes alone; or if thou wilt, having put it
to thy lips, fill the read more

Drink to me with thine eyes alone; or if thou wilt, having put it
to thy lips, fill the cup with kisses, and so give it me.

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.

May the hinges of friendship never rust, or the wings of luve
lose a feather.

May the hinges of friendship never rust, or the wings of luve
lose a feather.

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.

Ho! stand to your glasses steady!
'Tis all we have left to prize.
A cup to the read more

Ho! stand to your glasses steady!
'Tis all we have left to prize.
A cup to the dead already,--
Hurrah for the next that dies.

First pledge our Queen this solemn night,
Then drink to England, every guest;
That man's the best read more

First pledge our Queen this solemn night,
Then drink to England, every guest;
That man's the best Cosmopolite
Who knows his native country best.

A health to the nut-brown lass,
With the hazel eyes: let it pass.
. . . .
read more

A health to the nut-brown lass,
With the hazel eyes: let it pass.
. . . .
As much to the lively grey
'Tis as good i' th' night as day:
. . . .
She's a savour to the glass,
And excuse to make it pass.

Waes-hael! for Lord and Dame!
O! merry be their Dole;
Drink-hael! in Jesu's name,
read more

Waes-hael! for Lord and Dame!
O! merry be their Dole;
Drink-hael! in Jesu's name,
And fill the tawny bowl.