There's nane that's blest of human kind, But the cheerful and the gay, man, Fal, la, la, &c.
Here's a bottle and an honest friend! What wad ye wish for mair, man? Wha kens, before his life may end, What his share may be o' care, man?
Then catch the moments as they fly, And use them as ye ought, man: Believe me, happiness is shy, And comes not aye when sought, man.
Thanks, Bobby.
This combination of drink and poetry riminds me of my college days. Boston University has a private pub (in the basement of the Castle, no less), and at said pub they have what they call a "beer quest". You would get a card on which the bartender would make a mark for each of the many different beers they had available as you consumed them. Once you, the drunkard, completed the quest, he would be inducted into an exclusive group known as "the Knights of Gunnungagap". You would be dubbed with a silly title ("Sir Tainly a Slacker" at your service) and given a glass mug which they kept for you behind the bar.
The highlight of my own poetic attempts was when I composed a toast for a friend of mine, which I read at his "knighthood" ceremony. That toast became the official induction recital for at least one of the bartenders at the BU Pub and lived on for an indeterminant amount of time after my graduation. I wonder if it still is...
The knighter reads from a plaque on the wall about the Quest to the new knight, who kneels down upon one knee.
I doubt that's the toast, but I don't recall a reading from a plaque in my day.