John Wall Callcott - Dull, repining sons of care - текст песни (слова)

Dull, repining sons of care,
 O'er your treasures waste the night;
 Lose each moment anxious there,
 Nor taste the bloom of sweet delight,
 While to mirth's gay court we fly
 Revel there and truly live.
 Drain the bowl where pleasures lie,
 And every hour to rapture give,
 Our wandering steps pale Cynthia guides,
 Till we arrive where love presides,
 And laughing Bacchus leads the way,