I Won't Lie To You, Fatherhood Isn't

Wine Give Strenght To Weary Men. And And Wine Can Of Their Wits The Wise Beguile. Make The Sage Frolic, And The Serious Smile. And Let Those Who Drink Not, But Austerely Dine, Dry Up In Law; The Muses Smell Of Wine. And No Poem Was Ever Written By A Drinker Of Water. And Bacchus Opens The Gate Of The Heart. And Might To Inspire New Hopes And Powerful To Drown The Bitterness Of Cares.

He Lives Not Long Who Battles With The Immortals, Nor Do His Children Prattle About His Knees When He Has Come Back From Battle And The Dread Fray.

Earth Sounds My Wisdom, And High Heaven My Fame.

Is He Not Sacred, Even To The Gods, The Wandering Man Who Comes In Weariness?

A Glorious Death Is His, Who For His Country Falls.