Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly: 
Why should men make haste to die? 
Empty heads and tongues a-talking 
Make the rough road easy walking, 
And the feather pate of folly 
Bears the falling sky. 

Oh, 'tis jesting, dancing, drinking 
Spins the heavy world around. 
If young hearts were not so clever, 
Oh, they would be young for ever: 
Think no more; 'tis only thinking 
Lays lads underground.