Oh, why do men their glasses clink
When good old honest wine they drink?
Wine is so excellent a thing
To lowest subject, or to highest king,
That every sense alike should share
The pleasure that can banish care.
Thus may each merry eye behold
The sparkle of the red or gold.
Our lips may feel the goblet's edge
And taste the loving cup we pledge.
While from each foaming glass escape
The precious perfumes of the grape.
But ah, we hear it not, and so
We give the touch that all men know.
And thus do all the senses share
The pleasure that can banish care.
And that is why the glasses clink
When good old honest wine we drink.