Classic Poem

Sing care away, with sport and play,
Pastime is all our pleasure;
If well we fare, for nought we care,
In mirth consists our treasure.

What doth avail, far hence to sail
And lead our life in toiling,
Or to what end should we here spend
Our days in irksome moiling?

It is the best, so live at rest
And tak't as God doth send it,
To haunt each wake, and mirth to make
And with good fellows spend it.

Nothing is worse than a full purse
To niggards and to pinchers;
They always spare and live in care,
There's no man loves such flinchers.

The merry man with cup and can
Lives longer than doth twenty;
The miser's wealth doth hurt his health,
Examples we have plenty.

'Tis a beastly thing to lie musing
With pensiveness and sorrow;
For who can tell that he shall well
Live here until the morrow?

In card and dice our comfort lies,
In sporting and in dancing,
Our minds to please and live at ease,
And sometime to use prancing.

With Bess and Nell we love to dwell
In kissing and in haking;
But whoopho, holly, with trolly lolly!
To them we'll now be walking.