En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Stirrup Cup

Come, drink a stirrup cup with me,
Before we close our rouse.
You 're all aglow with wine, I know:
The master of the house,
Unmindful of our revelry,
Has drowned the carking devil care,
And slumbers in his chair.

Come, drink a cup before we start;
We 've far to ride to-night.
And Death may take the race we make,
And check our gallant flight:
But even he must play his part,
And tho' the look he wears be grim,
We 'll drink a toast to him!

For Death,--a swift old chap is he,
And swift the steed He rides.
He needs no chart o'er main or mart,
For no direction bides.
So, come, a final, cup with me,
And let the soldiers' chorus swell,--
To hell with care, to hell!

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Have A Drink On Me

Whiskey, gin and brandy
With a glass Im pretty handy
Im trying to walk a straight line
On sour mash and cheap wine
So join me for a drink boys
Were gonna make a big noise
So dont worry about tomorrow
Take it today
Forget about the cheque
Well get hell to pay
Have a drink on me
Have a drink on me
Yeah
Have a drink on me
Have a drink on me
On me
Come on
Dizzy, drunk and fightin
On tequila white lightnin
My glass is getting shorter
On whiskey, ice and water
So come on and have a good time
And get blinded out of your mind
So dont worry about tomorrow
Take it today
Forget about the cheque
Well get hell to pay
Have a drink on me
Have a drink on me
Have a drink on me
Have a drink on me
On me
Get stoned
Have a drink on me
Have a drink on me
Yeah
Have a drink on me
Come on
Oooh
Gonna roll around
Gonna hit the ground
Take another swing
Have another drink
Gonna drink it dry
Gonna get me high
Come on all the boys
Make a noise
Chorus
Have a drink on me
Have a drink on me
Have a drink on me
Have a drink on me
Have a drink on me
Have a drink on me
Have a drink on me
Have a drink on me
Have a drink oooooooon me

song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fugue of Death

Black milk of daybreak we drink it at nightfall
we drink it at noon in the morning we drink it at night
we drink it and drink it
we are digging a grave in the sky it is ample to lie there
A man in the house he plays with the serpents he writes
he writes when the night falls to Germany your golden
hair Margarete
he writes it and walks from the house the stars glitter he
whistles his dogs up
he whistles his Jews out and orders a grave to be dug in
the earth
he commands us strike up for the dance

Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
we drink you in the morning at noon we drink you at
nightfall
drink you and drink you
A man in the house he plays with the serpents he writes
he writes when the night falls to Germany your golden
hair Margarete
Your ashen hair Shulamith we are digging a grave in the
sky it is
ample to lie there

He shouts stab deeper in earth you there and you others
you sing and you play
he grabs at the iron in his belt and swings it and blue are
his eyes
stab deeper your spades you there and you others play on
for the dancing

Black milk of daybreak we drink you at nightfall
we drink you at noon in the mornings we drink you at
nightfall
drink you and drink you
a man in the house your golden hair Margarete
your ashen hair Shulamith he plays with the serpents

He shouts play sweeter death's music death comes as a
master from Germany
he shouts stroke darker the strings and as smoke you
shall climb to the sky
then you'll have a grave in the clouds it is ample to lie
there

Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
we drink you at noon death comes as a master from
Germany
we drink you at nightfall and morning we drink you and
drink you
a master from Germany death comes with eyes that are
blue
with a bullet of lead he will hit in the mark he will hit
you
a man in the house your golden hair Margarete
he hunts us down with his dogs in the sky he gives us a
grave
he plays with the serpents and dreams death comes as a
master from Germany

your golden hair Margarete
your ashen hair Shulamith.

poem by Paul Celan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Out on the Roofs of Hell

SING us a song in this cynical age,
Sing us a song, my friend,
While the Flesh and the Devil are all the rage
And Death seems the only end.
Give it the clatter of hoof-clipped bones
And a note like a dingo’s yell,
And the long, low sigh when the big mob moans
Out on the roofs of hell.

For Wool, Tallow, and Hides and Co.,
For Wool, Tallow, and Hides—
Over the roofs of hell we go
For Wool, Tallow, and Hides.

We take the route or we take the track,
Hell-doomed by the greed of man,
And we leave our wives in the scrubs out back
To struggle as best they can.
For the credit is short and the flour is low—
And this is the tale we tell—
A check must be made and the stock must go
Over the roofs of hell.

Wake ere the burst of the great white sun
Into the blazing skies,
Our limbs are stiff and the lids are gummed
Over our blighted eyes.
But our souls have perished in dust and heat,
And this is the tale we tell—
Our lives are ever a grim retreat
With Death on the roofs of hell.

They drivel and say how the bushman drinks,
But what do the townsfolk know?
The life is a hell to the man who thinks—
He must drink or his reason go.
Drink and drink, as the bushman knows,
Till he strip to the skin and yell;
Down for a change! for a rest! he goes
Down through the roofs of hell.

For Wool, Tallow, and Hides and Co.,
For Wool, Tallow, and Hides,
Down through the roofs of hell they go
For Wool, Tallow, and Hides.

poem by Henry Lawson
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Mr. Blackwell

I never said i was more than i am
Do what i want and i don't give a damn
You're all so weak you know it makes me ill
Don't like you now and probably never will
You cheat and lie, and wonder why
You can't sleep at night
You're not well, mr. blackwell
And we can tell
You're not well, mr. blackwell
Why don't you go to hell
I am a sinner who just loves to sin
I am a fighter who just loves to win
I am the truth about this crummy hole
There's nothing here that can't be bought or sold
You're cold and mean, and in between
You're rotten to the core
Chorus
You're a victim, a real disgrace
You should be banished from the human race
We'll drink to sorrow then we'll drink to waste
We'll drink a toast to the inhuman race
Here's to the world and the times we're in
Here's to the kid a real man among men
You're cold and mean, and in between
You're rotten to the core
Chorus

song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Escape From The Island

I never said I was more than I am
Do what I want and I don't give a damn
You're all so weak you know it makes me ill
Don't like you now and probably never will
You cheat and lie, and wonder why
You can't sleep at night
You're not well, Mr. Blackwell
And we can tell
You're not well, Mr. Blackwell
Why don't you go to hell
I am a sinner who just loves to sin
I am a fighter who just loves to win
I am the truth about this crummy hole
There's nothing here that can't be bought or sold
You're cold and mean, and in between
You're rotten to the core
Chorus
You're a victim, a real disgrace
You should be banished from the human race
We'll drink to sorrow then we'll drink to waste
We'll drink a toast to the inhuman race
Here's to the world and the times we're in
Here's to the kid a real man among men
You're cold and mean, and in between
You're rotten to the core
Chorus

song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death Fugue

Black milk of daybreak we drink it at sundown
we drink it at noon in the morning we drink it at night
we drink it and drink it
we dig a grave in the breezes there one lies unconfined
A man lives in the house he plays with the serpents
he writes
he writes when dusk falls to Germany your golden
hair Margarete
he writes it ans steps out of doors and the stars are
flashing he whistles his pack out
he whistles his Jews out in earth has them dig for a
grave
he commands us strike up for the dance

Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
we drink you in the morning at noon we drink you at
sundown
we drink and we drink you
A man lives in the house he plays with the serpents
he writes
he writes when dusk falls to Germany your golden hair
Margarete
your ashen hair Sulamith we dig a grave in the breezes
there one lies unconfined

He calls out jab deeper into the earth you lot you
others sing now and play
he grabs at teh iron in his belt he waves it his
eyes are blue
jab deper you lot with your spades you others play
on for the dance

Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
we drink you at at noon in the morning we drink you
at sundown
we drink and we drink you
a man lives in the house your golden hair Margarete
your ashen hair Sulamith he plays with the serpents
He calls out more sweetly play death death is a master
from Germany
he calls out more darkly now stroke your strings then
as smoke you will rise into air
then a grave you will have in the clouds there one
lies unconfined

Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
we drink you at noon death is a master from Germany
we drink you at sundown and in the morning we drink
and we drink you
death is a master from Germany his eyes are blue
he strikes you with leaden bullets his aim is true
a man lives in the house your golden hair Margarete
he sets his pack on to us he grants us a grave in
the air
He plays with the serpents and daydreams death is
a master from Germany

your golden hair Margarete
your ashen hair Shulamith

Translated by Michael Hamburger

poem by Paul Celan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Drink Poetry, Oh Ye of Small Faith

Drink poetry, oh ye of small faith:
Drink poetry from a bottle
Drink poetry from a book
Drink poetry from a fountain
Take another look.

Drink for sanctuary
Drink for inspiration
Drink for endurance
But never hesitation.

A toast to poetry
And a toast to time
A toast to us:
Live forever in rhyme.

poem by Patti Masterman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Picassos Last Words

The grand old painter died last night
His paintings on the wall
Before he went he bade us well
And said goodnight to us all.
Drink to me, drink to my health
You know I cant drink any more
Drink to me, drink to my health
You know I cant drink any more
3 oclock in the morning
Im getting ready for bed
It came without a warning
But Ill be waiting for you baby
Ill be waiting for you there
So drink to me drink to my health
You know I cant drink any more
Drink to me drink to my health
You know I cant drink any more
French interlude
Temp change
Jet... drink to me
Drunken chorus
French (tempo) drink to me... ho hey ho

song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Twilight Alehouse

1971. released as b-side of I know what I like single, 1974.
Is it really true what theyre saying
Are you really sure theres nobody come for me
When Im walking home there is no-one
Once there was a house, full of laughter - so warm
Trying to pretend there is someone
Someone who will care when I need it
I will now receive my comfort, conjured by the magic power of wine
Just a drink, Ill get that drink, and Im feeling good
Just a drink, Ill get that drink, and Im feeling fine
Just a drink to take my sorrow
Just a drink and you can blast tomorrow
Just a drink to make me feel like a man again
Now Im down
When I walk outside, there is nowhere
Children follow me, with their laughter - so cold...
Casting just a glance at the churchyard
Casting just a glance, at my painted female friend.
Now Im on my way, I am falling
Got to find some elp, ooh I will need that now
So I will receive my comfort, conjured by the magic power of wine
Just a drink, Ill get that drink, and Im feeling good
Just a drink, Ill get that drink, and Im feeling fine
Just a drink to take my sorrow
Just a drink and you can blast tomorrow
Just a drink to make me feel like a man again
Now Im down...
I will now receive my comfort, conjured by the magic power of wine
Just a drink, Ill get that drink, and Im feeling good
Just a drink, Ill get that drink, and Im feeling fine
Just a drink to take my sorrow
Just a drink and you can blast tomorrow, now...

song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dont Start Me On The Liquor

Dont start me on the liquor
Ill drink it all down straight
Ill make a toast to love
But I drink the most
When I got somebody to hate
Im an old man
I got an old mans pain
Will the morning
Will the morning ever come again
Well, Im likin lickin a lotta liquor
Im drivin down the drink
Ill take a toast to life
But I drink the most
When my devil start to think
Im an old man
I got an old mans pain
Will the morning
Will the morning ever come again
Oh, I could drink, drink, drink
So I cant think, think, think
I got a hope or a home
In this life Im all alone
On this long cold lonely night of fright
Followed by a lonely day
til theres nothing left I can say
Except I didnt know I was sick
And so I got sicker
Hes a low down lying
Peckerwood cotton picker
Dont start me on the liquor
I got nothing more to say
I had a little money
But it all flown away
And I said oh man
Oh, aint that a shame
Oh, I keep manin, I keep manin
Like I got an old mans pain
Dont
Dont start
Dont start me
Dont start me on
Dont start me on the
Dont start me on the liquor.
Gordon gano: vocal, guitar
Brian ritchie: bass, guitar, vocal
Guy hoffman: drums, vocal
Recorded and mixed by david vartanian at dvs perversion room, milwuakee, wi
gorno music reprinted with permission

song performed by by Violent Femmes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Don't Care Anymore

Well you can tell ev'ryone I'm a down disgrace
So drag my name all over the place.
I don't care anymore. (I don't care)
You can tell ev'rybody 'bout the state I'm in
You won't catch me crying 'cos I just can't win.
I don't care anymore I don't care anymore
I don't care what you say
I don't play the same games you play.
'Cos I've been talking to the people that you call your friends
And it seems to me there's a means to and end.
They don't care anymore. (they don't care)
And as for me I can sit here and bide my time
I got nothing to lose if I speak my mind.
I don't care anymore I don't care no more
I don't care what you say
We never played by the same rules anyway.
I won't be there anymore
Get out of my way
Let me by
I got better things to do with my time
I don't care anymore I don't care anymore
I don't care anymore I don't care anymore
Well, I don't care now what you say (I don't care what you say)
'Cos ev'ry day (everyday)
I'm feeling fine with myself (I'm feeling fine with myself)
And I don't care now what you say (I don't care what you say)
Hey I'll do alright by myself (I'll be alright by myself)
I don't care (I don't care) anymore (anymore)
I don't care (I don't care) anymore (anymore)
I don't care (I don't care) anymore (anymore)
I don't care anymore
Do you care? Hell no!
Do you care? Hell no!
Do you care? Hell no!
What what?
Do you care? Hell no!
Do you care? Hell no!
Do you care? Hell no!
What what?
Do you care? Hell no!
Do you care? Hell no!
Do you care? Hell no!
What what?
Do you care? Hell no!
Do you care? Hell no!
Do you care? Hell no!
What what?
'Cos I remember all the times I tried so hard
And you laughed in my face 'cos ya held all the cards.
I don't care anymore.
And I really ain't bothered what you think of me
'Cos all I want of you is just a let me be.
I don't care anymore
Did you hear? I don't care no more
I don't care what you say
I never did believe you much anyway.
We won't be there any more
So get out of our way.
Let us by
We got better things to do with our time
We don't care anymore
We don't care anymore
We don't care anymore
We don't care anymore
We don't care
We don't care
We don't care (anymore)
We don't care

song performed by by Kelis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Picasso's Last Words (Drink To Me)

The Grand Old Painter Died Last Night
His Paintings On The Wall
Before He Went He Bade Us Well
And Said Goodnight To Us All.
Drink To Me, Drink To My Health
You Know I Can't Drink Any More
Drink To Me, Drink To My Health
You Know I Can't Drink Any More
3 O'clock In The Morning
I'm Getting Ready For Bed
It Came Without A Warning
But I'll Be Waiting For You Baby
I'll Be Waiting For You There
So Drink To Me Drink To My Health
You Know I Can't Drink Any More
Drink To Me Drink To My Health
You Know I Can't Drink Any More
Jet... Drink To Me
Drink To Me... Ho Hey Ho

song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Here's to the Maiden of Bashful Fifteen

Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen;
Here's to the widow of fifty;
Here's to the flaunting extravagant quean,
And here's to the housewife that's thrifty.

Chorus

Let the toast pass,--
Drink to the lass,
I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass.

Here's to the charmer whose dimples we prize;
Now to the maid who has none, sir:
Here's to the girl with a pair of blue eyes,
And here's to the nymph with but one, sir.

Chorus

Let the toast pass,--
Drink to the lass,
I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass.

Here's to the maid with a bosom of snow;
Now to her that's as brown as a berry:
Here's to the wife with her face full of woe,
And now to the damsel that's merry.

Chorus

Let the toast pass,--
Drink to the lass,
I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass.

For let 'em be clumsy, or let 'em be slim,
Young or ancient, I care not a feather;
So fill a pint bumper quite up to the brim,
And let us e'en toast them together.

Chorus

Let the toast pass,--
Drink to the lass,
I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass.

poem by Richard Brinsley Sheridan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Death, My Final Part

A tower grim; a glowering darkness,
And only brown of red the other hue
– I saw it in the distant eyes –
And yes, He knew, but focussed only
On the mortal soul of mine –
After all, He had a role to play,
And wine: my shivering blood to quaff!
If only I could Him betray –
To break the seal of destiny;
Escape the lone cacophony
That emanates from wailing minds!

Damn the fate of His – it awes and blinds!
But oh! the mighty hammer strikes a toll;
The slow approach of Him upon the knoll
Commences exudation of a dying heart.
Endorsing all, I honed my final part.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009

Death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death
The final part

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Western Camps

THREE men stood with their glasses lifted,
Night was around them and flaring lamps:
'Here's to the tried and true and sifted;
Here's to the flotsam tossed and drifted;
Here's to the men in the Outcast-camps,
'Stars that fall are their lot for ever;
Lights that perish and stars that fall;
Fighting Fate with a brave heart ever —
Drifting leaves on a wayward river —
Men for ever in spite of all.
'Here's to the gallant souls defeated;
Here's to the strong souls under-trod,
Hope-abandoned and mirage-cheated —
And yet, by right of their failure, seated
Somewhere close to the feet of God.
'Here's to the heart that braves undaunted
Toil and trouble for home and wife;
Here's to the spirit mocked and taunted;
Here's to the memory, sorrow-haunted;
Here's to the soul grown sick of life.
'Drink to the man at the camp-fire sitting;
Drink to his mistress of long ago;
Well — 'twere well — and the time were fitting,
If, in the shades of the firelight flitting,
She should come with her eyes aglow.
'Drink to the purpose, iron, oaken,
Brought to nought by a wanton's guile;
Drink to men with an old love-token
Somewhere close to their brave hearts broken;
Drink to the martyred souls that smile.
'Drink to courage and all fine daring —
Spirit trampling the flesh beneath;
Drink to the reckless heart uncaring;
Drink to mates at the last pinch sharing
Their little all in the face of death.
'Last toast this . . . may their hearts discover,
On every track that the outcast tramps,
A friend in need, and at need a lover,
Green grass around them and kind stars over,
And dreams of peace in their Western Camps.'

poem by Roderic Quinn
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Toast the New Year

Have a toast and drink to me
and taste the sweetened drink.
And I, myself shall have a sip
before I sit and think.
And though you're there
and I am here
the drinks will slowly disappear
and once again in separation
we begin another year.

Oh to start the year anew
and not know what it will bring
will have me go from day to day
always wondering.
Shall it be filled with agony
or will the toast I make come true?
Only time will answer that
or the toast that was made by you.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Four Points

Thomas Tusser

Ere stopping or turning, to put forth a hande
Is a charm that thy daies may be long in the land.

Though seventy-times-seven thee Fortune befriend,
O'ertaking at corners is Death in the end.

Sith main-roads for side-roads care nothing, have care
Both to slow and to blow when thou interest there.

Drink as thou canst hold it, but after is best;
For Drink with men's Driving makes Crowners to Quest.

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Death Of A Clown

My makeup is dry and it clags on my chin
Im drowning my sorrows in whisky and gin
The lion tamers whip doesnt crack anymore
The lions they wont fight and the tigers wont roar
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
So lets all drink to the death of a clown
Wont someone help me to break up this crown
Lets all drink to the death of a clown
Lets all drink to the death of a clown
The old fortune teller lies dead on the floor
Nobody needs fortunes told anymore
The trainer of insects is crouched on his knees
And frantically looking for runaway fleas
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Lets all drink to the death of a clown
So wont someone help me to break up this crown
Lets all drink to the death of a clown
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Lets all drink to the death of a clown
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la

song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cast away care

Cast away care; he that loves sorrow
Lengthens not a day, nor can buy to-morrow ;
Money is trash, and he that will spend it,
Let him drink merrily, fortune will send it.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, oh, ho !
Play it off stiffly, we may not part so.

Wine is a charm, it heats the blood too,
Cowards it will arm, if the wine be good too ;
Quickens the wit, and makes the back able,
Scorns to submit to the watch or constable.
Merrily, &c.

Pots fly about, give us more liquor,
Brothers of a rout, our brains will flow quicker ;
Empty the cask, score up, we care not ;
Fill all the pots again, drink on, and spare not.
Merrily, &c.

poem by Thomas Dekker
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Renate

Renate, came to work
one day
all dressed in Pink
she walked around the floor
and gave everybody a wink

the whole team started,
started to think
they wondered if we should
Invite Renate for a drink

But Renate is so Cool
and she doesn't play the fool
Just because I dress in Pink
does not mean I want a drink

ah but drink she does
and wears pink as well
and that's because
she feels so swell

poem by David Darbyshire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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