The Trouper

Come, come, let us drink, 'Tis vain to think Like fools of grief or sadness; Let our money fly And our sorrows dye, All worldly care is madness; But wine and good cheer Will, in spite of our fear, Inspire us all with gladness.

2. Let the greedy clowns, That do live like hounds, They know neither bound nor measure, Lament every loss, For their wealth is their cross, Whose delight is in their treasure; Whilst we with our own Do go merrily on, And spend it at our leisure.

3. Then trout about the bowl To every loyal soul, And to his hand commend it. A fig for chink, 'Twas made to buy drink, Before we depart we'll end it. When we've spent our store, The nation yields no more, And merrily we will spend it.