Says the young to the old
on often nights,
why are you here?

Says the old to the young
on dreary nights,
I'm here because I strove.  

Says the young to the old,
on dreary nights,
It can't be so.  

Says the old to the young
on dreary nights,
It is, and shall be.  

And before the morning,
time to wretch and moan,
life lifts you up,
when you think you've got it,
and plunges you back down.

"Earth to earth
Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust"

Undertaker wipes hand on trouser leg
wipes away the
Earth
Ashes
Dust

gin-***/gin-***/gin-***/gin-***/gin-***

It would tie your brain up in a knot,
the clink of glasses on the barman's grate,
and the tones of creaky Dublin croaking,
In darkness, mourning the death, of the daytime light.  

It would I say, to grasp the slender neck,
and to lift it, smiling, glancing beyond the glass,
at winking eyes and clinking pints of plain,
My brain is in a knot, when I think of you.  

I held you on the banks, of the  royal canal,
knew then what all the bards and lovers mean,
say it was the light reflected in their eye,
I never did hear tell, of eyes to rival glass

Yet confound revealing daytime light,
you are liquid of the night, stout and dark,
rebuke me not, till your own brain too,
Has been left in knots, by the dark slender boy.

1: der Sauerkraut.  Ja!  Sauerkraut mit Wacholderbeere ist naturlich sehr lecker...........................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­................................................................O­h yes, that's the other one.  2: gin.  GIN.  gingingingingin.  g-i-n.  gin.

Ah sure it wasn't long
last Saturday night,
before I was dancing out on the green.  

I stepped the dance
to general delight;
And I danced the skellemesago.

But not before long
I drew there a crowd
who thought me rather odd.

And sure says I
to two poli-ce-men,
It's only me dancing the wherligig jig.  
  
But with menacing look,
says one to me then,
You'll come right along with us.  

Yet being inclined,
to dance tru the night,
I skipped my heals and fled.

It was such a fleeing,
as think you might,
That I danced the Irish trot.

With fine trotting trot
as ever was got,
I danced away from those men.  

Yet intent they seemed,
On following me,
And dancing the rufty tufty

So up tailes all,
we three did go,
and the maid peept out the window.

A glass of wine is a fine thing,  
Unless the wine is bad.  

A pint of plain porter is a fair thing,
Unless it isn't very nice.  

A smidgeon of whisky is a grand thing,
Unless the whisky is sub-standard.  

A glass of ale is a proper thing,
Unless the ale is too warm.  

A little gin is an excellent thing,
I have never observed an exception to this rule.