Classic Poem

To the Abbe de la Roche, at Auteuil

Singer.

Fair Venus calls, her voice obey,
In beauty's arms spend night and day.
The joys of love, all joys excel,
And loving's certainly doing well.

Chorus.

Oh! no!
Not so!
For honest souls know,
Friends and a bottle still bear the bell.

Singer.

Then let us get money, like bees lay up honey;
We'll build us new hives, and store each cell.
The sight of our treasure shall yield us great pleasure;
We'll count it, and chink it, and jingle it well.

Chorus.

Oh! no!
Not so!
For honest souls know,
Friends and a bottle still bear the bell.

Singer.

If this does not fit ye, let's govern the city,
In power is pleasure no tongue can tell;
By crowds tho' you're teas'd, your pride shall be pleas'd,
And this can make Lucifer happy in hell!

Chorus.

Oh! no!
Not so!
For honest souls know,
Friends and a bottle still bear the bell.

Singer.

Then toss off your glasses, and scorn the dull asses,
Who, missing the kernel, still gnaw the shell;
What's love, rule, or riches? wise Solomon teaches,
They're vanity, vanity, vanity, still.

Chorus.

That's true;
He knew;
He'd tried them all through;
Friends and a bottle still bore the bell.