Another, then another

 We’ll have another

We are a nation, oft a stranger 

To moderation and to restraint

We’ll give it holly, and if we’re sorry

We’ll repent tomorrow and pay our way. 

We’ll have another, then another 

What’s your hurry? We’ll leave no bottle 

Half empty for the morning. 

What’s the point in wondering?

Not for us the half pint of bitter

Or the tiny glass of table wine

No, fill that glass til overflowing

Birds don’t fly on one wing over there

Not a race of small half measures 

Empty and full we understand 

Time in the wee hours spent sleeping

Is time wasted when a raging party 

Flows freely in the kitchen. 

Then time for songs sung with eyes half-shut. 

These winter nights will pass more swiftly

When no one’s a stranger and all are kin

In the wee hours in the kitchen. 

Regrets are passed round in a parcel 

To be opened on the morrow

But for now we’ll raise the rafters

Exiling sadness, forgetting sorrow.