The Soldier

Lyrics
Then, soldier! Come fill high the wine For we reck not of tomorrow; Be ours today and we resign All the rest to the fools of sorrow Gay be the hour 'til we beat to arms Then comrade Death or Glory; 'Tis Victory in all her charms Or 'tis Fame in the world's bright story 'Tis you, 'tis I that may meet the ball; And me it better pleases In battle, brave, with the brave to fall Than to die of dull diseases; Driveller to be in my fireside chair With saws and tales unheeded; A tottering thing of aches and care No longer lov'd nor needed But thou, O dark is thy flowing hair Andthine eye with fire is streaming And o'er thy cheek, thy looks, thine air Sits health in triumph beaming Thou, brother soldier, fill the wine Fill high to love and beauty; Love, friendship, honour, all are thine Thy country and thy duty
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Credits
- Writers
- Ludwig van Beethoven
- William Smyth