Why spend your leisure bereft of pleasure
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A massing treasure why scrape and save?
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Why look so canny at ev'ry penny?
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You'll take no money within the grave
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Landlords and gentry with all their plenty
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Must still go empty where e'er they're bound
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So to my thinking we'd best be drinking
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Our glasses clinking and round and round
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King Solomon's glory, so famed in story
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Was far outshone by the lillies guise
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But hard winds harden both field and garden
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Pleading for pardon, the lily dies
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Life's but a bauble of toil and trouble
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The feathered arrow, once shot ne'er found
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So, lads and lasses, because life passes
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Come fill your glasses for another round
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Preab San Ol
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| The Tossers |
