Page:Foliage, various poems.djvu/22

 Measure the ale our brains allow,

But drink as much as we can hold.

We'll count no change when we spend gold;

This is no time to save, but spend,

To give for nothing, not to lend.

Let foes make friends: let them forget

The mischief-making dead that fret

The living with complaint like this—

"He wronged us once, hate him and his."

Christmas has come; let every man

Eat, drink, be merry all he can.

Ale's my best mark, but if port wine

Or whisky's yours—let it be mine;

No matter what lies in the bowls,

We'll make it rich with our own souls.

Farewell to study, books and pen,

And welcome to all kinds of men.