The Arethusa/How Stands the Glass Around
For other versions of this work, see How Stands the Glass Around.
HOW STANDS THE GLASS AROUND
How stands the glass around?For shame, ye take no care, my boys;How stands the glass around?Let mirth and wine abound.The trumpets sound,The colours they are flying, boys,To fight, kill, or wound,May we still be foundContent with our hard fate, my boys,On the cold ground.
Why, soldiers, why,Should we be melancholy, boys?Why solders, why,Whose business ’tis to die!What—sighing?—fie;Don’t fear, drink on, be jolly, boys;’Tis he, you, or I—Cold, hot, wet, or dry,We’re always bound to follow, boys,And scorn to fly.
’Tis but in vain,(I mean not to upbraid you, boys)’Tis but in vainFor soldiers to complain:Should next campaignSend us to him who made us, boys,We’re free from pain;But if we remain,A bottle and kind landladyCure all again.