TO THE TUNE OF
"AWAY WITH MELANCHOLY."
Let fancy's airy finger,
To joy attune each string;
No gloomy fear shall linger:
We 'll merrily, merrily sing fal la!
O, droop not then with sorrow;
To hope's sure anchor cling;
For joy will come to-morrow;
Then merrily, &c:
To joy attune each string;
No gloomy fear shall linger:
We 'll merrily, merrily sing fal la!
O, droop not then with sorrow;
To hope's sure anchor cling;
For joy will come to-morrow;
Then merrily, &c:
Dull, wrinkling care and sighing,
Away we 'll gaily fling.
What if old Time is flying,
We 'll merrily, merrily sing.
Though the rose may have a thorn,
A smile can cure its sting;
'T is folly, indeed, to mourn;
Then merrily, &c.
Away we 'll gaily fling.
What if old Time is flying,
We 'll merrily, merrily sing.
Though the rose may have a thorn,
A smile can cure its sting;
'T is folly, indeed, to mourn;
Then merrily, &c.