Drink From Thy Glass Lyrics

Drink from thy glass see Death upon thee waits

Sharpening his sword and at thy threshold stands

Be not afraid he but the grave door prates

And shuts it fast perhaps for yet a span

Movitz thy consumption draws thee near

Now pluck the octave

Tune up thy strings and sing of life's young year

Tune up thy strings and sing of life's young year

Golden-hued face cheeks pale and softly fading

Sunken chest and shoulder blades so flat

Show me thy hand where every vein protruding

Swells like it's soaked and tender as in bath

Sweaty the hand and stiffened are the veins

Now pluck and play

Drain from thy flask sing and drink with cheer

Drain from thy flask sing and drink with cheer

Heavens! Thou dost die thy cough brings me dread

Hollow sounds and echoes from within

Tongue pale white the frightened heart has sped

Soft as a sponge thy sinews marrow skin

Breathe — Fie what stench from thine ashes spreads

Lend me thy flask

Movitz good health! Cheers! Sing of the wine god

Movitz good health! Cheers! Sing of the wine god

From his vessel death to thee in drops hath flown

Unperceived with laughter song and peace

Yes this glass hath sadly enclosed alone

Glowing worms wilt thou believe Movitz?

All is consumed thy tears do start to fall

Thy guts do burn

Canst thou still call out good health? — Yes yes

Canst thou still call out good health? — Yes yes

Now then good health! Bacchus bids thee farewell

From Freya's throne thou dost get thy last sign

Tenderly to praise her little blood doth swell

Which now with force from thy veins does decline

Sing read and forget think bewail and ponder

Shouldst thou desire

Yet another farewell sip? Wilt thou die? — Nay good health!

Yet another farewell sip? Wilt thou die? — Nay good health!