Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Toil's end

drink up! drink up! you ballyhoo boys
drink up, ye worn weary men
the day now well spent, the night just ahead
let's dance to the places we've been

how freshly we drank of our sweet morning milk
it's whiteness we boldly called hope
and our plans were the biscuits we gravied in cheer
while we patted the backs bloke to bloke

we kissed the warm sunshine from the fields of bright green
while bowing our heads to say grace
our first beads of sweat spiked the innocent dew
while the doubts sailed south without trace

so drink up! drink up! you widowed old wife
drink up, ye once virgin lass
the day has run out, and night comes to call
tell the preacher he can just kiss your ass

such a raising of glory from the wisp of a dream
such a promising seed that went bad
and for what? yes for what? tell me sweet darling
was it all just a joke to be had?

our flowers, sweet darling, how fresh did they bloom!
the wine, from the vine, how it poured!
we wrote of the eagle, then painted his sky
while tucked in his wings how we soared!

but where is he now, you spinner of silk?
and your charm that once healed my way?
the night it does come, in gallantry gait
stamping truth on our fields of lost play

so drink up! drink up! while the moon is still high
drink up to what never could be
we are what we are, and we ain't what we ain't
such fools to believe, you and me