A Song

Heigho for a glass, heigho for a lass,
A drink and a kiss, I leave you;
Heigho for a friend that sticks till the end —
Good-bye, my lass, don’t you grieve you.

Hurrah for a song that is not too long,
With a jolly roaring chorus,
While our cans beat time to the ringing rhyme
Till the ceiling cracks up o’er us.

Heigho for an eye as blue as the sky
And a mouth that’s red and tender;
For a chin that’s round and a cheek that’s brown
As the oak leaves in November.

Hurrah for a horse on a wind-swept course
And a night as black as hell is,
And a gallop blind in face o’ the wind
To calm a soul that fell is.

Heigho for a glass, heigho for a lass,
A drink and a kiss, I leave you;
Heigho for a friend that sticks till the end —
Good-bye, my lass, don’t you grieve you.

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