Classic Poem

Come, every man now give his toast,
Fill up the glass, I'll tell you mine,
Wine is the mistress I love most,
This is my toast — now give me thine.

II.

Well said my lad, ne'er let it stand,
I give my Chloe, nymph divine,
May love and wine go hand in hand: —
This is my toast — now give me thine.

III.

Fill up your glasses to the brink,
Hebe let no one dare decline,
'Twas Hebe taught me first to drink: —
This is my toast — now give me thine.

IV.

Gem'men I give my wife, d'ye see;
May all to make her blest combine,
So she be far enough from me: —
This is my toast, now give me thine.

V.

Let constant lovers at the feet
Of pale-fac'd wenches sigh and pine,
For me, the first kind girl I meet
Shall be my toast — now give me thine.

VI.

You toast your wife, and you your lass,
My boys, and welcome; here's the wine,
For my part, he who fills my glass
Shall be my toast — now give me thine.

VII.

Spirit, my lads, and toast away,
I have still one with yours to join;
That we may have enough to pay: —
This is my toast — now give me thine.