  A thousand years ago I used to dine In houses where they gave me such regale Of dear companionship and comrades fine That out I went alone beyond the pale; And riding, laughed and dared the skies malign To show me all the undiscovered tale— But my philosophy’s no more divine, I put my pleasure in a pint of ale. And you, my friends, oh! pleasant friends of mine, Who leave me now alone, without avail, On Californian hills you gave me wine, You gave me cider-drink in Longuevaille; If after many years you come to pine For comradeship that is an ancient tale— You’ll find me drinking beer in Dead Man’s Chine. I put my pleasure in a pint of ale. In many a briny boat I’ve tried the brine, From many a hidden harbour I’ve set sail, Steering towards the sunset where there shine The distant amethystine islands pale. There are no ports beyond the far sea-line, Nor any halloa to meet the mariner’s hail; I stand at home and slip the anchor-line. I put my pleasure in a pint of ale. ENVOIPrince! Is it true when you go out to dine You bring your bottle in a freezing pail? Why then you cannot be a friend of mine. I put my pleasure in a pint of ale. |
|
