Dum Vivimus Vigilemus

Turn out more ale, turn up the light; I will not go to bed to-night. Of all the foes that man should dread The first and worst one is a bed. Friends I have had both old and young, And ale we drank and songs we sung: Enough you know when this is said, That, one and all,—they died in bed.   In bed they died and I ’ll not go   Where all my friends have perished so.   Go you who glad would buried be,   But not to-night a bed for me. For me to-night no bed prepare, But set me out my oaken chair. And bid no other guests beside The ghosts that shall around me glide; In curling smoke-wreaths I shall see A fair and gentle company. Though silent all, rare revellers they, Who leave you not till break of day.   Go you who would not daylight see,   But not to-night a bed for me:   For I ’ve been born and I ’ve been wed—   All of man’s peril comes of bed. And I ’ll not seek—whate’er befall— Him who unbidden comes to all. A grewsome guest, a lean-jawed wight— God send he do not come to-night! But if he do, to claim his own, He shall not find me lying prone; But blithely, bravely, sitting up, And raising high the stirrup-cup.   Then if you find a pipe unfilled,   An empty chair, the brown ale spilled;   Well may you know, though naught be said,   That I ’ve been borne away to bed.