Classic Poem

Omnes gentes plaudite,
I saw many birds sitting on a tree;
They took their flight and flew away,
With, Ego dixi , have good day!
Many white feathers hath the pie —
I may no more sing, my lips are so dry.
Many white feathers hath the swan —
The more that I drink, the less good I can.
Lay sticks on the fire, well may it burn;
Give us once to drink ere away we turn.