Full Lyrics
Come bind my hair, ye wood nymphs fair,
With ivy wreaths, come bind my brows.
Hence grief and woe and pain and care,
To Bacchus I'll devote my vows.
Dull cynic rules are fit for schools;
Let those digest the food who can;
But love and wine shall still be mine
Oh let me laugh out all my span.
No wounds, O[of] love, e'er let me feel,
But such as spring from eyes and shapes;
A curse on those that come by steel,
I hate all blood but blood of grapes.
Then fill up high the bowl
That I may drink and laugh at fools of sense;
Why need we fear to want next year
'Twill be all one an hundred hence.
