Preab San Ól

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 e'er 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 lillies 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! "

This special vices, his fancy prices

For a florin value he'll charge a crown

With hump for tramel, the scripture's chamel

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!