Time--old Time--whither away?
Linger a moment with us, I pray;
Too soon thou spreadest thy wings for flight;
Dip, boy, dip
In the bowl thy lip,
And be jolly, old Time, with us to-night.
Dip, dip, &c.
Time--old Time--thy scythe fling down;
Garland thy pate with a myrtle crown,
And fill thy goblet with rosy wine;--
Fill, fill up,
The joy-giving cup,
Till it foams and flows o'er the brim like mine.
Fill, fill, &c.
Time--old Time--sighing is vain,
Pleasure from thee not a moment can gain;
Fly, old greybeard, but leave us your glass
To fill as we please,
And drink at our ease,
And count by our brimmers the hours as they pass.
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