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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.
Drink to her that each loves best,
And if you nurse a flame
That's told but to read more
Drink to her that each loves best,
And if you nurse a flame
That's told but to her mutual breast,
We will not ask her name.
Life, lift the full goblet--away with all sorrow--
The circle of friendship what freedom would sever?
To-day read more
Life, lift the full goblet--away with all sorrow--
The circle of friendship what freedom would sever?
To-day is our own, and a fig for to-morrow--
Here's to the Fourth and our country forever.
Waes-hael! for Lord and Dame!
O! merry be their Dole;
Drink-hael! in Jesu's name,
read more
Waes-hael! for Lord and Dame!
O! merry be their Dole;
Drink-hael! in Jesu's name,
And fill the tawny bowl.
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 your good health, and your family's good health, and
may you all live long and prosper.
Here's to your good health, and your family's good health, and
may you all live long and prosper.
Weren't the last drop in the well,
As I gasp'd upon the brink,
Ere my fainting spirit read more
Weren't the last drop in the well,
As I gasp'd upon the brink,
Ere my fainting spirit fell,
'Tis to thee that I would drink.
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.
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.