Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, CONVIVIAL SONG, by ROYALL TYLER


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

CONVIVIAL SONG, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Come fill each brimming glass, boys
Last Line: At our next fed'ral meeting.
Alternate Author Name(s): Old Simon; S.
Subject(s): Fourth Of July; New England; Patriotism; Independence Day


I

COME fill each brimming glass, boys,
Red or white has equal joys,
Come fill each brimming glass, boys,
And toast your country's glory;
Does any here to fear incline,
And o'er Columbia's danger whine,
Why let him quaff this gen'rous wine,
He'll tell another story.

II

Here's Washington, the brave, boys,
Source of all Columbia's joys,
Here's Washington, the brave, boys,
Come rise and toast him standing:
For he's the hero firm and brave,
Who all our country's glory gave,
And once again he shall us save,
Our Armies bold commanding.

III

Here's to the gallant tar, boys,
Whose cannon's roar our foe annoys,
Here's to the gallant tar, boys,
His country's cause defending;
For warlike Truxtun's noble name,
Like Nelson's shall extend his fame,
And loud through all the earth proclaim,
His glory never ending.

IV

Here's to our native land, boys,
Land of liberty and joys,
Here's to our native land, boys,
Your glasses raise for drinking;
And he that will not drink this toast,
May he in France of freedom boast,
There dangling on a lanterne post,
Or in the Rhone be sinking.

V

Here's to our Vermont FAIR, boys,
Pledges bright of Fed'ral joys,
Here's to our Vermont FAIR, boys,
Fill high to Love and Beauty;
For while we toast their glowing charms,
Their virtue ev'ry bosom warms,
We'll die to guard them safe from harms,
It is a Fed'ral duty.

VI

Here's to Vermont State, boys,
And all her manly rustic joys,
Here's to Vermont State, boys,
Columbia's brave defender;
For while our pines ascend on high,
And while our Mountains mock the sky,
Our Independence, Liberty,
We never will surrender.

VII

Here's to the Sage of Quincy, boys,
Legal head of all our joys,
Here's to the Sage of Quincy, boys,
Who guards us while we're drinking;
For while we quaff the boozy wine,
And sense and tipsy mirth combine,
With temp'rate head he sits sublime,
And for our good is thinking.

VIII

Now come join hand in hand, boys,
Mystic type of Fed'ral joys,
Now come join hand in hand, boys,
Like brother, brother greeting;
For while our union we pursue,
'Tis I and he, and you and you,
Our pleasure all may yet renew,
At our next Fed'ral meeting.





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