Classic Poem

Drink! drink! the red, red wine,
That in the goblet glows,
Is hallow'd by the blood that stain'd
The ground whereon it grows.

Drink! drink! there's health and joy
In its foam to the free and brave;
But 'twould blister up like the elf-king's cup
The pale lip of the slave!

Drink! drink! and as your hearts
Are warm'd by its ruddy tide,
Swear to live as free as your fathers liv'd,
Or to die as your fathers died.