The Book of Scottish Song/Push about the Glass

Push about the Glass.

Comrades, push about the glass,
An' mak' the cheerfu' ingle glow;
Time, a rogue that ne'er knew grace,
Will urge alike his steady pace,
Whether we are blest or no.

Fill thritty bouts for ane o' his,
Toom ninety glasses for his three;
For a' their saws and prattles, this
The best and beaten road to bliss
Wiser men have fund than we.

If you can be blest the day,
Ne'er defer it till the morn:
Peril still attends delay,
As all fools will find, whan they
Have their happie hour forborne.

Comrades, fill your glass wi' me;
Let us drink, and laugh, and sing:
Whan ye merry are and ree,
Fear not to drink out your glee;
New delights the morn will bring.

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