Now Son, You Don’t Want To Drink

The Glorious Gifts Of The Gods Are Not To Be Cast Aside.

Who Ne'er Knew Salt, Or Heard The Billows Roar.

And Heaven, That Every Virtue Bears In Mind, E'en To The Ashes Of The Just Is Kind.

Steel Itself Oft Lures A Man To Fight.

Reproach Is Infinite, And Knows No End So Voluble A Weapon Is The Tongue; Wounded, We Wound; And Neither Side Can Fail For Every Man Has Equal Strength To Rail.