Classic Poem

Three things there are, worth living for—
A kiss, a cup and a taste o' war—
Without them life's but watered ale.
As dull and drab as a twice-told tale,
While a man is young and a man is hale,
Ho, landlord, fill the bowl!

What tunes the throat to a roaring song
Like a drink that's hot and a drink that's strong?
Away with your tipples, wan and thin,
And fetch of your bravest brandy in,
That's mellow as gold and old as sin!
Ho, landlord, fill the bowl!

When the heart is young, then the heart beats high,
And the divil lurks in a downcast eye;
For, maids are coy but to be pursued,
And maids resist but to be subdued,
Heigh ho! 'Tis a chase that stirs the blood!
Ho, landlord, fill the bowl!

The train is laid and the breach is made!
It's pistol work and shortened blade!
The play is best when the stakes be high,
When the dice of death roll thundrous by,
And it's touch and go if you live or die!
Ho, landlord, fill the bowl!

Three loves there be, and three alone,
Born in the blood and bred in the bone!
Who follows their lead rides fast and far;
It's neck or nothing, where these three are.
So here's to woman and wine and war!
Ho, landlord, fill the bowl!