| Come, send round the wine, and leave points of belief
|
| To simpleton sages and reasoning fools;
|
| This moment’s a flower too fair and brief
|
| To be wither’d and stain’d by the dust of the schools
|
| Your glass may be purple, and mine may be blue
|
| But, while they are fill’d from the same bright bowl
|
| The fool that would quarrel for difference of hue
|
| Deserves not the comfort they shed o’er the soul
|
| Na na na na na na na na
|
| Shall I ask the brave soldier, who fights by my side
|
| In the course of mankind, if our creeds agree?
|
| Should I give up the friend I have valued and tried
|
| If he kneel not before the same altar with me?
|
| From the heretic boy of my soul shall I fly?
|
| To seek somewhere else a more orthodox kiss?
|
| No, perish the hearts, and the laws that try
|
| Truth, valour, or love, by a standard like this!
|
| Come, send round the wine, and leave points of belief
|
| To simpleton sages and reasoning fools;
|
| This moment’s a flower too fair and brief
|
| To be wither’d and stain’d by the dust of the schools
|
| Come, send round the wine
|
| (Come, send round the wine, the wine, the wine)
|
| Come, send round the wine
|
| (Come, send round the wine, the wine, the wine)
|
| Come, send round the wine
|
| (Come, send round the wine, the wine, the wine) |