"
"Now, Jack," said Sitgreaves, nodding on his seat, "remember the air I
taught you, and--stop, I have a copy of the words in my pocket."
"Forbear, forbear, good doctor," said the trooper, filling his glass
with great deliberation; "I never could wheel round those hard names.
Gentlemen, I will give you a humble attempt of my own."
"Silence, for Captain Lawton's song!" roared five or six at once; when
the trooper proceeded, in a fine, full tone, to sing the following words
to a well-known bacchanalian air, several of his comrades helping him
through the chorus with a fervor that shook the crazy edifice they
were in:--
Now push the mug, my jolly boys,
And live, while live we can;
To-morrow's sun may end your joys,
For brief's the hour of man.
And he who bravely meets the foe
His lease of life can never know.
Old mother Flanagan
Come and fill the can again!
For you can fill, and we can swill,
Good Betty Flanagan.
If love of life pervades your breast,
Or love of ease your frame,
Quit honor's path for peaceful rest,
And bear a coward's name;
For soon and late, we danger know,
And fearless on the saddle go.
Old mother, etc.
When foreign foes invade the land,
And wives and sweethearts call,
In freedom's cause we'll bravely stand
Or will as bravely fall;
In this fair home the fates have given
We'll live as lords, or live in heaven.
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