Volume 10 — DUM VIVIMUS VIGILAMUS

BY JOHN PAUL

Turn out more ale, turn up the light; I will not go to bed to-night. Of all the foes that man should dread The first and worst one is a bed. Friends I have had both old and young, And ale we drank and songs we sung: Enough you know when this is said, That, one and all,—they died in bed. In bed they died and I'll not go Where all my friends have perished so. Go you who glad would buried be, But not to-night a bed for me. For me to-night no bed prepare, But set me out my oaken chair. And bid no other guests beside The ghosts that shall around me glide; In curling smoke-wreaths I shall see A fair and gentle company. Though silent all, rare revelers they, Who leave you not till break of day. Go you who would not daylight see, But not to-night a bed for me: For I've been born and I've been wed— All of man's peril comes of bed. And I'll not seek—whate'er befall— Him who unbidden comes to all. A grewsome guest, a lean-jawed wight— God send he do not come to-night! But if he do, to claim his own, He shall not find me lying prone; But blithely, bravely, sitting up, And raising high the stirrup-cup. Then if you find a pipe unfilled, An empty chair, the brown ale spilled; Well may you know, though naught be said, That I've been borne away to bed.