Prelude
Come brim the mug and in the wanton fire,
Fling book and pencil with a wild desire,
February must see the bottoms up
And him who points to June, call loudly--"Liar".
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And those high-pinnacled by listing dean,
And those who labored hard, three C's to glean,
Alike towards honey-dripping wood are turned,
Which entered once, men find forever green.
Not for an age
O Horace sang of a drink that was warm
Dark red or as purple as Ocean
And modern men choke on the drink that is hot
But they sing with the same devotion
For whether it's raw,
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