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.
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The bubble winked at me, and said,
"You'll miss me brother, when you're dead."
The bubble winked at me, and said,
"You'll miss me brother, when you're dead."
Here's a health to all those that we love,
Here's a health to all those that love us,
read more
Here's a health to all those that we love,
Here's a health to all those that love us,
Here's a health to all those that love them that love those
That love them that love those that love us.
Here's to Great Britain, the sun that gives light to all nations
of the world.
Here's to Great Britain, the sun that gives light to all nations
of the world.
To the old, long life and treasure;
To the young, all health and pleasure.
To the old, long life and treasure;
To the young, all health and pleasure.
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.
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 you live all the days of your life.
May you live all the days of your life.
St. Leon raised his kindling eye,
And lifts the sparkling cup on high;
"I drink to one," read more
St. Leon raised his kindling eye,
And lifts the sparkling cup on high;
"I drink to one," he said,
"Whose image never may depart,
Deep graven on this grateful heart,
Till memory be dead."
. . . .
St. Leon paused, as if he would
Not breathe her name in careless mood
Thus lightly to another;
Then bent his noble head, as though
To give the word the reverence due,
And gently said, "My mother!"
Our country, however bounded.
Our country, however bounded.
