King Death

King Death was a rare old fellow!He sate where no sun could shine;And he lifted his hand so yellow,And poured out his coal-black wine.Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine!

There came to him many a Maiden,Whose eyes had forgot to shine;And Widows, with grief o'erladen,For a draught of his sleepy wine.Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine!

The Scholar left all his learning;The Poet his fancied woes;And the Beauty her bloom returning,Like life to the fading rose.Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine!

All came to the royal old fellow,Who laugh'd till his eyes dropped brine,As he gave them his hand so yellow,And pledged them in Death's black wine.Hurrah! ­Hurrah!Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine!