Explore "Molly O'Rigge" by Anonymous on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Let's be merry with jest and song, / Time as he swiftly flies, my boys, / Will not a second our bliss prolong, / But with his scythe mow down our joys;
Then seize him by the forelock, Mirth, / Pleasure drown him in the bowl-- / We'll be happy while on earth, / We'll toast each laughter-loving soul.