For ’tis Champagne, the sparkling soul of mirth,
That, bubbling o’er with laughing gas,
Flashes gay sunbeams in the glass,
And like our flag goes proudly round the earth.
Ay, ’tis the true, the typic wine of France;
Ay, ’tis our heart that sparkles in our eyes,
And higher beats for every dire mischance.
It was the wit that made our fathers wise,
That made their valour gallant, gay,
When plumes were stirred by winds of waving swords,