Why spend your leisure bereft of pleasure
A massing treasures, why scrape and save
Why look so canny at ev'ry penny
You'll take no money within the grave
Landlords and gentry with all their plenty
Must still go empty where're they're bound
So to my thinking we'd best be drinking
Our glasses clinking and round and roundKing Solomon's glory so famed in story
Was far outshone by the lily's guise
But hard winds harden both field and garden
Pleading for pardon, the lily dies
Life's but a bauble of toil and trouble
The feathered arrow once shot ne'er found
So lads and lasses, because life passes
Come fill your glasses for another round
The huckster greedy, he blinds the needy
There strives unheeding, shouts: 'Money down'
His special vices, his fancy prices
For a flouring value he'll charge a crown
With hump for trammel, the scripture's camel
Missed the needle's eye and so came to ground
Why pine for riches, while still you've stitches
To hold your britches up?
Another round
--The Dubliners
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