Preab Son Ol

Why spend your leisure bereft of pleasure

A massing treasure why scrape and save?

Why look so canny at ev'ry penny?

You'll take no money within the grave

Landlords and gentry with all their plenty

Must still go empty where 're they're bound.

So to my thinking we'd best be drinking

Our glasses clinking and round and round.

King Solomon's glory, so famed in story,

Was far outshone by the lilies guise,

But hard winds harden both field and garden,

Pleading for pardon, the lily dies.

Life's but a bauble of toil and trouble,

The feathered arrow, once shot ne'er found,

So, lads and lasses, because life passes,

Come fill your glasses for another round.

The huckster greedy, he blinds the needy.

Their strifes unheeding, shouts "Money down!"

His special vices, his fancy prices,

For a florin value he'll charge a crown.

With hump for tramel, the scripture's camel

Missed the needle's eye and so came to ground.

Why pine for riches, while still you've stitches

To hold your britches up? Another round!