Preab San Ol

Why spend your leisure bereft of pleasure A ma*sing 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 gla*ses 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 la*ses, because life pa*ses Come fill your gla*ses for another round