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Title: Hip, Hip, Hurra!
Author: Thomas Moore [
More Titles by Moore]
Come, fill round a bumper, fill up to the brim,
He who shrinks from a bumper I pledge not to him;
Here's the girl that each loves, be her eye of what hue,
Or lustre, it may, so her heart is but true.
Charge! (drinks) hip, hip, hurra, hurra!
Come charge high, again, boy, nor let the full wine
Leave a space in the brimmer, where daylight may shine;
Here's "the friends of our youth--tho' of some we're bereft,
May the links that are lost but endear what are left!"
Charge! (drinks) hip, hip, hurra, hurra!
Once more fill a bumper--ne'er talk of the hour;
On hearts thus united old Time has no power.
May our lives, tho', alas! like the wine of to-night,
They must soon have an end, to the last flow as bright.
Charge! (drinks) hip, hip, hurra, hurra!
Quick, quick, now, I'll give you, since Time's glass will run
Even faster than ours doth, three bumpers in one;
Here's the poet who sings--here's the warrior who fights--
Here's the, statesman who speaks, in the cause of men's rights!
Charge! (drinks) hip, hip, hurra, hurra!
Come, once more, a bumper!--then drink as you please,
Tho', _who_ could fill half-way to toast such as these?
Here's our next joyous meeting--and oh when we meet,
May our wine be as bright and our union as sweet!
Charge! (drinks) hip, hip, hurra, hurra!
[The end]
Thomas Moore's poem: Hip, Hip, Hurra!
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