Wine lifts the soul to dizzy height, where silken maidens please the sight of those who help Dull Prudence flee. Come! Taste Life’s blissful agony, where Passion sighs with strange delight.
Give your cares a farewell fling. Sing a song with measured swing. Drain your drink with single quaff; fill it up, then toss it off. Dead men groan while live men sing.
Oh, Youth is good and wine is red, so leave all cautious words unsaid. The marble vault’s the rich man’s tomb, the pauper’s grave’s the poor man’s doom. The man who never sins is dead.
Copyright ©1932 Charles Millard Morris (1905-1990)
10 July 1932