"Now then, come along, old fellow,—out with your song!"
Lieutenant Pringle standing up, and laying aside his cigar, then commenced the following song, in a rich tenor voice:—
SONG.
I live a life of pleasure,
I hate the man that staid is;
I think earth owns no treasure
So charming as the ladies!
For them I would endure all
The purgatory of Hades,
And think I did secure all
If I secured the ladies!
Wine—ladies bright—and laughter
Let my young years be spent in,
And tedious old age after
Will bring time to repent in!
The earth owns many a pleasure,
But all together weighed is
A trifle beyond measure,
Compared with you, sweet ladies!
The man that suns in beauty
His heart, right well repaid is;
And every Briton's duty
Is this, to love the ladies!
Our soldiers, and our seamen,
They dearly love the lasses,
In battle they can be men,
In love they can be asses!
I live a life of pleasure,
I hate the man that staid is!
Fill up a sparkling measure,
And drain it to the ladies!
Here, seated at "The Dragon,"
Oft may we meet to give it,
And to her drain the flagon
Who most our heart doth rivet!
"Bravo, Pringle, bravo—what do you think of it, De Vere?"
"A merry song, though somewhat lengthy, Forster. Never mind, Pringle, you did your best, and, egad, sang it capitally."
Other songs were sung, and toasts drunk, when all of a sudden Captain de Vere sprung up with an exclamation, and said he knew where he was off to, and, relighting his black little pipe, he strode towards the door.