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1779–1852

HIP, HIP, HURRA!

Thomas Moore

Come, fill round a bumper, fill up to the brim, He who shrinks from a bumper I pledge not to him; Here's the girl that each loves, be her eye of what hue, Or lustre, it may, so her heart is but true.

Charge! ( drinks ) hip, hip, hurra, hurra! Come charge high, again, boy, nor let the full wine Leave a space in the brimmer, where daylight may shine; Here's “the friends of our youth — tho’ of some we're bereft,

May the links that are lost but endear what are left!” Charge! ( drinks ) hip, hip, hurra, hurra! Once more fill a bumper — ne'er talk of the hour; On hearts thus united old Time has no power.

May our lives, tho’, alas! like the wine of to-night, They must soon have an end, to the last flow as bright. Charge! ( drinks ) hip, hip, hurra, hurra! Quick, quick, now, I'll give you, since Time's glass will run

Even faster than ours doth, three bumpers in one; Here's the poet who sings — here's the warrior who fights — Here's the, statesman who speaks, in the cause of men's rights! Charge! ( drinks ) hip, hip, hurra, hurra!

Come, once more, a bumper!— then drink as you please, Tho’, who could fill half-way to toast such as these? Here's our next joyous meeting — and oh when we meet, May our wine be as bright and our union as sweet!

Charge! ( drinks ) hip, hip, hurra, hurra!

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HIP, HIP, HURRA! · Thomas Moore · Poetry Cove