Notes from Wikiquote
A cure for sorrow my sighs would borrow | And hope tomorrow would end my woes. | But as in wailing there's naught availing | And Death unfailing will strike the blow | And for that reason, and for a season | Let us be merry before we go. | To joy a stranger, a wayworn ranger | In every danger my course I've run | Now hope all ending, and death befriending | His last aid lending, my cares are done. | No more a rover, or hapless lover | My griefs are over – my glass runs low | Then for that reason, and for a season | Let us be merry before we go." – ("The Deserter's Meditation")