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We work like Masons free and true, and when our task is done, A merry song and a cheering glass are not unduly won; And only at our farewell pledge is pleasure touched with pain— "HAPPY TO MEET—SORRY TO PART—HAPPY TO MEET AGAIN!"

Amidst our mirth we drink "To all poor Masons o'er the world"— On every shore our flag of love is gloriously unfurled; We prize each brother, fair or dark, who bears no moral stain— "HAPPY TO MEET—SORRY TO PART—HAPPY TO MEET AGAIN!"

The Mason feels the noble truth the Scottish peasant told. That rank is but the guinea's stamp, the man himself's the gold; With us the rich and poor unite and equal rights maintain— "HAPPY TO MEET—SORRY TO PART—HAPPY TO MEET AGAIN!"

Dear Brethren of the mystic tie, the night is waning fast— Our duty's done—our feast is o'er—this song must be our last, Good-night—good-night—once more, once more, repeat the farewell strain— "HAPPY TO MEET—SORRY TO PART—HAPPY TO MEET AGAIN!"