A Song

Heigho for a glass, heigho for a lass, A drink and a kiss, I leave you; Heigho for a friend that sticks till the end -- Good-bye, my lass, don't you grieve you. Hurrah for a song that is not too long, With a jolly roaring chorus, While our cans beat time to the ringing rhyme Till the ceiling cracks up o'er us. Heigho for an eye as blue as the sky And a mouth that's red and tender; For a chin that's round and a cheek that's brown As the oak leaves in November. Hurrah for a horse on a wind-swept course And a night as black as hell is, And a gallop blind in face o' the wind To calm a soul that fell is. Heigho for a glass, heigho for a lass, A drink and a kiss, I leave you; Heigho for a friend that sticks till the end -- Good-bye, my lass, don't you grieve you.