"The morning air doth coldly pass,
Comrades, to the saddle spring:
The night more bitter cold will bring
Ere dying--ere dying.
Sweetheart, come, the parting glass;
Glass and sabre, clash, clash, clash,
Ere dying--ere dying.
Stirrup-cup and stirrup-kiss--
Do you hope the foe we'll miss,
Sweetheart, for this loving kiss,
Ere dying--ere dying?"

The feasts and revels of the year
Do ghosts remember long?
Even in memory come they here?
Listen, my Sailor's Song:

"O my hearties, yo heave ho!
Anchor's up in Jolly Bay--
Hey!
Pipes and swipes, hob and nob--
Hey!
Mermaid Bess and Dolphin Meg,
Paddle over Jolly Bay--
Hey!
Tars, haul in for Christmas Day,
For round the 'varsal deep we go;
Never church, never bell,
For to tell