Classic Poem

Heap on more coal there,
And keep the glass moving,
The frost nips my nose,
Though my heart glows with loving
Here's the dear creature,
No skylights—a bumper;
He who leaves heeltaps
I vote him a mumper.
With hey cow rumble O,
Whack! populorum,
Merrily, merrily men,
Push round the jorum.

What are Heaven's pleasures
That so very sweet are?
Singing from psalters,
In short or long metre.
Planked on a wet cloud,
Without any breeches,
Just like the Celtic,
Met to make speeches.
With hey cow rumble O, etc.

Wide is the difference,
My own boosing bullies,
Here the round punch-bowl
Heaped to the full is.
Then if some wise one
Thinks that up “yonder”
Is pleasant as we are,
Why—he's in a blunder.
With hey cow rumble O,
Whack! populorum,
Merrily, merrily men,
Push round the jorum.