When I'm dead, on my tomb-stone I hope they will say

When I'm dead, on my tomb-stone I hope they will say;
Here lies an old fellow, the foe of all care;
With the juice of the grape he would moisten his clay,
And, wherever he went, frolic follow'd him there.
With the young he would laugh,
With the old he would quaff,
And banish afar all traces of sorrow:
Old Jerome would say—
"Though the sun sinks to-day.
It is certain to rise up as gaily to-morrow."

Tho' the snows of old age now may whiten his brow,
It never by gloom was a moment o'ercast;
His age, like the sunset that gleams on us now,
Chased away with its brightness the clouds to the last.
With the young he would laugh.
With the old he would quaff.
And banish afar all traces of sorrow:
Old Jerome would say—
"Though the sun sinks to-day.
It is certain to rise up as gaily to-morrow."