Morning a cruel turmoiler is,
Banishing ease and repose;
Noonday a roaster and broiler is
How we pant under  'is nose!
Ev'ning for lover's soft measures,
Sighing and begging a boon;
But the blithe season for pleasures,
Laughing lies under the moon.

Refrain:
Och! Then you rogue Pat O' Flannaghan,
Kegs of the whiskey we'll tilt,
Murtoch, replenish our can again,
Up with your heart cheering lilt!

Myrtles and vines some may prate about,
Bawling in heathenish glee,
Stuff I won't bother my pate about,
Shamrock and whiskey for me!
Faith, but I own I feel tender;
Judy, you jill, how I burn!
If she won't smile, devil mend her!
Both sides of chops have their turn.

(Refrain)

Fill all your cups till they foam again,
Bubbles must float on the brim;
He that steals first sneaking home again,
Daylight is too good for him!
While we have goblets to handle,
While we have liquor to fill,
Mirth, and one spare inch of candle,
Planets may wink as they will.

(Refrain)