When you drink wine
Would you not dine?
For all the service is Devine.
After the party
All dry and dull
Do you sometimes scratch your skull?
Through all the nicks
And all the backs
You still cannot look at the rack
From which the books will fall and land
And we will take them hand in hand
Sleep and read and rest, repeat
Until we sprinkle off our feet
Sleep and read and rest, repeat
Summers here, and here too sleet
