I, whenever I see thee, thirst, and holding the cup, apply it to
my lips more for thy sake read more

I, whenever I see thee, thirst, and holding the cup, apply it to
my lips more for thy sake than for drinking.

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.'

Here's to you, as good as you are,
And here's to me, as bad as I am;
read more

Here's to you, as good as you are,
And here's to me, as bad as I am;
But as good as you are, and as bad as I am,
I am as good as your are, as bad as I am.

Some hae meat, and canna eat,
And some wad eat that want it;
But we hae meat, read more

Some hae meat, and canna eat,
And some wad eat that want it;
But we hae meat, and we can eat,
And sae the Lord be thankit.

I am from Massachusetts,
The land of the sacred cod,
There the Adamses snub the Abootts
read more

I am from Massachusetts,
The land of the sacred cod,
There the Adamses snub the Abootts
And the Cabots walk with God.

I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet,
Wi' a' the honours three.

I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet,
Wi' a' the honours three.

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.

L'Abbe de Ville proposed a toast,
His master, as the rising Sun:
Reisbach then gave the Empress read more

L'Abbe de Ville proposed a toast,
His master, as the rising Sun:
Reisbach then gave the Empress Queen,
As the bright moon and much praise won.
The Earl of Stair, whose turn next came,
Gave for his toast his own King Will,
As Joshua the sun of Nun,
Who made both Sun and Moon stand still.

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.