Oh, comrades, fill no glass for me
To drown my soul in liquid flame
For if I drank, the toast should be
To blighted fortune, health and fame

Yet, though I long to quell the strife
That passion holds against my life
Still, boon companions may ye be
But, comrades, fill no glass for me

Oh, I know a breast that once was light
Whose patient sufferings need my care
I know a hearth that once was bright
But drooping hopes have nestled there

Then while the teardrops nightly steal
From wounded hearts that I should heal
Though, boon companions ye may be
Oh, comrades, fill no glass for me

When I was young I felt the tide
Of aspirations undefiled
But manhood's years have wronged the pride
My parents centred in their child

Then, by a mother's sacred tear
By all that memory should revere
Though, boon companions may ye be
Oh, comrades, fill no glass for me