Wine's a sov'reign cure for sorrow,
Let's drink to-day, and die to-morrow;
No wonder the bottle should mortals enslave,
Since it snatches the soul from the brink of the grave!
Gentle creature, hither bring,
Wine to soothe my love's despair;
Then in merry accents sing,
Woman false, as she is fair!
Wine, I say! I'll drink to madness!
Wine, my girl, to cure my sadness!
And tell me no more there is folly in drinking
Can anything equal the folly of thinking?
Magic soother! sparkling wine,
What is nectar, drink divine,
What is nectar to champagne?
Fill the goblet! fill again!
No more, no more of am'rous folly,
From me fly black melancholy;
And tyrant take heed how you came in my view,
Lest in my distraction, your boldness you rue!
Smiling ruin, lovely woman,
Fit companion's in our wine;
For in reason surely no man
Comes within your fatal line.
Bring fresh bottles, bring fresh glasses,
From my soul how sorrow passes!
Before my witch'd eyes laughs a gay cover'd plain,
While fancy forms visions that fire my brain!
Then wine, I say! I'll drink to madness!
Wine, my girl, to cure my sadness!
And tell me no more, there's folly in drinking,
Can any thing equal the folly of thinking!