Why spend your leisure bereft of pleasure A massing treasure why scrape and save? Why look so canny at ev'ry penny? You'll take no money within the grave Landlords and gentry with all their plenty Must still go empty where e'er they're bound So to my thinking we'd best be drinking Our glasses clinking and round and round King Solomon's glory, so famed in story Was far outshone by the lillies guise But hard winds harden both field and garden Pleading for pardon, the lily dies Life's but a bauble of toil and trouble The feathered arrow, once shot ne'er found So, lads and lasses, because life passes Come fill your glasses for another round