How cool and fair this cellar where
 My throne a dusky cask is;
To do no thing but just to sing
 And drown the time my task is.
 The cooper he's
 Resolved to please,
And, answering to my winking,
 He fills me up
 Cup after cup
For drinking, drinking, drinking.

 Begrudge me not
 This cosy spot
In which I am reclining--
 Why, who would burst
 With envious thirst,
When he can live by wining.
A roseate hue seems to imbue
 The world on which I'm blinking;
My fellow-men--I love them when
I'm drinking, drinking, drinking.

And yet I think, the more I drink,
 It's more and more I pine for--
Oh, such as I (forever dry)
 God made this land of Rhine for;
 And there is bliss
 In knowing this,
As to the floor I'm sinking:
 I've wronged no man
 And never can
While drinking, drinking, drinking.