Saturday, January 28, 2012

 

Let Us Be Merry Before We Go

John Philpot Curran (1750–1817), Let Us Be Merry Before We Go:
If sadly thinking, with spirits sinking,
    Could, more than drinking, my cares compose,
A cure for sorrow from sighs I'd borrow,
    And hope to-morrow would end my woes.
But as in wailing there's nought availing,
    And Death unfailing will strike the blow,
Then for that reason, and for a season,
    Let us be merry before we go!

To joy a stranger, a wayworn ranger,
    In every danger my course I've run;
Now hope all ending, and Death befriending,
    His last aid lending, my cares are done:
No more a rover, or hapless lover,
    My griefs are over, my glass runs low;
Then for that reason, and for a season,
    Let us be merry before we go!
By virtue of this song, John Philpot Curran has an apt middle name, which one could fancifully derive from Greek φιλοπότης (philopótēs) = lover of drinking.



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