Classic Poem

Unser Grab erwärmt der Ruhm

" Glory warms us in the grave. "
Nonsense! That's a silly stave!
There's a better warmth than this
Found in any cow-girl's kiss,
Though she be a thick-lipped flirt,
Though she reek of dung and dirt.
And a better warmth, I'm thinking,
Every man has found in drinking;
Lapping wine, the lucky dog,
Punch or even common grog;
Sprawling over filthy benches
With the vilest thieves and wenches
That have yet deserved a hanging;
Yes, but — living and haranguing —
Worth more envy, every one,
Than fair Thetis' noble son!

Old Pelides spoke the truth:
Richer is the poorest youth
Who's alive, than lords and ladies
And the greatest kings in Hades.
Praised in many a classic tome, or
All the heroes sung by Homer!