The Convivial Book – Ye’Ve Often, For Our Drunkenness,

Blamed us in ev’ry way,
And, in abuse of drunkenness,

Enough can never say.
Men, overcome by drunkenness,

Are wont to lie till day;
And yet I find my drunkenness

All night-time make me stray;
For, oh! ’tis Love’s sweet drunkenness

That maketh me its prey,
Which night and day, and day and night,

My heart must needs obey,–
A heart that, in its drunkenness,

Pours forth full many a lay,
So that no trifling drunkenness

Can dare assert its sway.
Love, song, and wine’s sweet drunkenness,

By night-time and by day,–
How god-like is the drunkenness

That maketh me its prey!