6

THE POPE.

THE POPE.

HE pope he leads a happy life, happy life;
He's free from care and marriage strife, mar-

riage strife;

He drinks the best of Rhenish wine;

I would the gay pope's life were mine.

But still it's not a happy life, happy life;
He has no dear and loving wife, loving wife;
No child has he to cheer his hope:

I would not wish to be the pope.

The sultan better pleases me, pleases me;

He leads a life of jollity, jollity;

He has as many wives as he will:

The sultan's throne I fain would fill.

But still he's not a happy man, happy man;
He must obey his Alcoran, Alcoran;

He cannot drink one drop of wine:
The sultan's throne I would decline.

But here am I, content to stand, 'tent to stand,
In this, my own, my native land, native land,

And kiss my maid so fair and fine,

And drink the best of Rhenish wine.

Ζώη μοῦ σὰς ἀγαπῶ.

And when my maid she kisses me,
I'll fancy I the sultan be, sultan be;
And, when my ruby wine I tope,
I'll fancy I'm the good old pope.

kisses me,

7

Ζώη μοῦ σὰς ἀγαπῶ.

AIR, -"Ah me!"

AID of Athens, ere we part,

M

Give, oh, give me back my heart!
Or, since that has left my breast,

Keep it now, and take the rest;
Hear my vow before I go,-
Ζώη μοῦ σὰς ἀγαπῶ.

By those tresses unconfined,
Wooed by each Ægean wind ;
By those lids whose jetty fringe
Kiss thy soft cheeks' blooming tinge;
By those wild eyes, like the roe,
Ζώη μου σὰς ἀγαπῶ.

By that lip I long to taste,

By that zone-encircled waist;

By all the token-flowers that tell

What words can never speak so well;

By love's alternate joy and woe, -
Ζώη μου σάς αγαπώ.

X

DRINKING SONG.

E brothers, when I'm no more drinking,
But faint with gout and palsy lie,
Exhausted on the sick-bed sinking,

Believe me, then, my end is nigh;

And, die I this day or to-morrow,

My testament's already made ;
My burial from your care I'll borrow,
But without splendor or parade.

And, as for coffin, that remanding,
A Rhenish cask for it shall pass;
Instead of lemon placed each hand in,
Give me a brimful Deckel glass.

Into the cellar then convey me,

Where I have drunk whole hogsheads dry;

With mouth unto a tap then lay me,

My feet towards the wall may lie.

DOWN AMONG THE DEAD MEN.

And when you're to the grave me bringing,
Where follow all then, man by man,
For God's sake, let no bells be ringing,

But tinkling glasses be your plan;
And, on my tombstone be inscribed,

This man was born, grew, drank, and died,
And now he rests where he imbibed,

In life's long joy, the purple tide.

9

DOWN AMONG THE DEAD MEN.

H

ERE'S a health to the Queen, and a lasting

peace;

To faction an end, to wealth increase.

Come, let's drink it while we have breath,

For there's no drinking after death;

And he that will this health deny,
Down among the dead men let him lie.

Let charming beauties' health go round,
In whom celestial joys are found;
And may confusion still pursue
The senseless, woman-hating crew;
And they that woman's health deny,
Down among the dead men let them lie.

In smiling Bacchus' joy I'll roll,
Deny no pleasure to my soul;