Ho! stand to your glasses steady!
'Tis all we have left to prize.
A cup to the read more

Ho! stand to your glasses steady!
'Tis all we have left to prize.
A cup to the dead already,--
Hurrah for the next that dies.

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.

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!"

Here's to the red of it,
There's not a thread of it,
No, not a shred of read more

Here's to the red of it,
There's not a thread of it,
No, not a shred of it,
In all the spread of it,
From foot to head,
Not heroes bled for it,
Faced steel and lead for it,
Precious blood shed for it,
Bathing in red.

Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss read more

Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I'll not look for wine.

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 the hinges of friendship never rust, or the wings of luve
lose a feather.

May the hinges of friendship never rust, or the wings of luve
lose a feather.

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.

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.