'Tis in vain to complain.
1
'Tis in vain
To complain,
In a melancholy strain,
Of the days that are gone, and will never come again.
Be we gay,
While we may,
At whatever time of day,
Be our locks berry brown, or mottled o'er with gray,
Be our locks berry brown, or mottled o'er with gray.
2
We have laughed,
We have quaffed,
We have raked it fore and aft,
But out of pleasure's bowl have not emptied all the draught.
Never mind
Days behind,
But still before the wind,
Float after jolly souls, full flasks, and lasses kind,
Float after jolly souls, full flasks, and lasses kind.
