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May your glass be ever full
May the roof over your head be always strong,
And may read more
May your glass be ever full
May the roof over your head be always strong,
And may you be in heaven
Half an hour before the devil knows you're dead.
Here's to old Adam's crystal ale,
Clear sparkling and divine,
Fair H2O, long may you flow,
read more
Here's to old Adam's crystal ale,
Clear sparkling and divine,
Fair H2O, long may you flow,
We think your health (in wine).
Drink to me with thine eyes alone; or if thou wilt, having put it
to thy lips, fill the read more
Drink to me with thine eyes alone; or if thou wilt, having put it
to thy lips, fill the cup with kisses, and so give it me.
Our federal Union: it must be preserved.
Our federal Union: it must be preserved.
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.
I come from good old Boston,
The home of the bean and the cod,
Where Cabots speak read more
I come from good old Boston,
The home of the bean and the cod,
Where Cabots speak only to Lowells,
And the Lowells speak only to God.
My boat is on the shore,
And my bark is on the sea:
But, before I go, read more
My boat is on the shore,
And my bark is on the sea:
But, before I go, Tom Moore,
Here's a double health to thee!
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.
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!"