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Translated by John Oxenford
THOUGH Frenchmen at our drink may laugh, | |
| And think their taste is wondrous fine, | |
| The Norman cider which we quaff | |
| Is quite the equal of his wine,— | |
| When down, down, down it freely goes, | 5 |
| And charms the palate as it flows. | |
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| Whene’er a potent draught I take, | |
| How dost thou bid me drink again! | |
| Yet, pray, for my affection’s sake, | |
| Dear Cider, do not turn my brain. | 10 |
| O, down, down, down it freely goes, | |
| And charms the palate as it flows. | |
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| I find I never lose my wits, | |
| However freely I carouse, | |
| And never try in angry fits | 15 |
| To raise a tempest in the house; | |
| Though down, down, down the cider goes, | |
| And charms the palate as it flows. | |
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| To strive for riches is all stuff; | |
| Just take the good the gods have sent. | 20 |
| A man is sure to have enough | |
| If with his own he is content; | |
| As down, down, down the cider goes, | |
| And charms the palate as it flows. | |
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| In truth that was a hearty bout; | 25 |
| Why, not a drop is left,—not one; | |
| I feel I ’ve put my thirst to rout; | |
| The stubborn foe at last is gone. | |
| So down, down, down the cider goes, | |
| And charms the palate as it flows. | 30 |
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