| Come, send round the wine, and leave points of belief
 | 
| To simpleton sages and reasoning fools;
 | 
| This moment’s a flower too fair and brief
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| To be wither’d and stain’d by the dust of the schools
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| Your glass may be purple, and mine may be blue
 | 
| But, while they are fill’d from the same bright bowl
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| The fool that would quarrel for difference of hue
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| Deserves not the comfort they shed o’er the soul
 | 
| Na na na na na na na na
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| Shall I ask the brave soldier, who fights by my side
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| In the course of mankind, if our creeds agree?
 | 
| Should I give up the friend I have valued and tried
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| If he kneel not before the same altar with me?
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| From the heretic boy of my soul shall I fly?
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| To seek somewhere else a more orthodox kiss?
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| No, perish the hearts, and the laws that try
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| Truth, valour, or love, by a standard like this!
 | 
| Come, send round the wine, and leave points of belief
 | 
| To simpleton sages and reasoning fools;
 | 
| This moment’s a flower too fair and brief
 | 
| To be wither’d and stain’d by the dust of the schools
 | 
| Come, send round the wine
 | 
| (Come, send round the wine, the wine, the wine)
 | 
| Come, send round the wine
 | 
| (Come, send round the wine, the wine, the wine)
 | 
| Come, send round the wine
 | 
| (Come, send round the wine, the wine, the wine) |