Classic Poem

Come let us drive business and sorrow away,
And, forgetting to-morrow, live merry to-day;
Since man is of clay-mold, and life is a span,
Let us moisten our clay, and laugh while we can.

Those dull mortals I hate, who are full of their store,
And who, having enough, still wish to get more;
Or those, who cry out, That the nation's in ruin,
Because they can't share in the spoils of undoing:

But let me be plac'd in a snug easy chair,
With a friend at my side like myself void of care,
With a friend at my side like myself void of care,
With my pipe in my mouth, and my glass in my hand,
And I'll look down with scorn on the lords of the land.