Ye who have nothing to conceal, Come, honest boys, and drink with me; Come, drink with me the sparkling ale, And we'll not whisper calumny, But laugh with all the power we can; But all pale schemers who incline To rise above your fellow man, Touch not the sparkling ale or wine. Give me strong ale to fire my blood, Content me with a lot that's bad; That is to me both drink and food, And warms me though I am ill-clad; A pot of ale, man owns the world: The poet hears his songs all sung, Inventor sees his patents sold, The painter sees his pictures hung. The creeds remind us oft of Death; But man's best creed is to forget Death all the hours that he takes breath, And quaff the sparkling ale, and let Creeds shout until they burst their lungs; For what is better than to be A-drinking ale and singing songs, In summer, under some green tree? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ELDER WOMAN'S SONG: 1, FR. KING LEAR'S WIFE by GORDON BOTTOMLEY SONG AND CRY OF A SOLDIER IN THE LINES by ALBERT EDWARD CLEMENTS A STRANGER MINSTREL; TO MRS. ROBINSON BEFORE HER DEATH by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE FIRST SONGS: 11 by HILDA CONKLING I HEAR HER SING by CAROLINE COX THE SACRAMENT by GEORGE CRABBE |