THE Pope he leads a happy life;
He fears not married care nor strife;
He drinks the best of Rhenish wine —
I would the Pope’s gay lot were mine.
He drinks the best of Rhenish wine —
I would the Pope’s gay lot were mine.
But then, all happy’s not his life;
He has not maid nor blooming wife,
Nor child has he to raise his hope —
I would not wish to be the Pope.
The Sultan better pleases me;
His is a life of jollity;
His wives are many as his will —
I would the Sultan’s throne then fill.
But even he’s a wretched man;
He must obey his Alcoran;
And dares not drink one drop of wine —
I would not change his lot for mine.
So, then, I’ll hold my lowly stand,
And live in German fatherland;
I’ll kiss my maiden fair and fine,
And drink the best of Rhenish wine.
260
Whene’er my maiden kisses me,
I’ll think that I the Sultan be;
And when my cheery glass I tope,
I’ll fancy then I am the Pope.
FOR the sole edification
Of this decent congregation,
Goodly people, by your rant
I will sing a holy chant
I will sing a holy chant.
If the ditty sound but oddly.
’Twas a father, wise and godly,
Sang it so long ago.
Then sing as Martin Luther sang:
“Who loves not woman, wine, and song,
Remains a fool his whole life long!”
He, by custom patriarchal,
Loved to see the beaker sparkle;
And he thought the wine improved,
Tasted by the lips he loved,
By the kindly lips he loved.
Friends, I wish this custom pious
Duly were observed by us,
To combine love, song, wine,
And sing as Martin Luther sang;
As Doctor Martin Luther sang:
“Who loves not woman, wine, and song,
Remains a fool his whole life long!”
261
Who refuses this our Credo,
And who will not sing as we do,
Were he holy as John Knox,
I’d pronounce him heterodox,
I’d pronounce him heterodox,
And from out this congregation,
With a solemn commination,
Banish quick the heretic,
Who’ll not sing as Luther sang,
As Doctor Martin Luther sang:
“Who loves not woman, wine, and song,
Remains a fool his whole life long!”