We will therefore return to Mr Tupman; merely adding that within some few minutes before twelve o'clock that night, the convocation of worthies of Dingley Dell and Muggleton were heard to sing, with great feeling and emphasis, the beautiful and pathetic national air of
We won't go home 'till morning,
We won't go home 'till morning,
We won't go home 'till morning,
'Till daylight doth appear.
(Charles Dickens: The Pickwick Papers, Chapter 7)
Bár Dickens szerint énekelték, és én elhiszem neki, mégiscsak ő írta a könyvet, csak a dal szövegét találtam meg, ahhoz viszont illusztrációt is tudok mutatni.
A fig for melancholy—
Since grieving's all a folly,
'Tis folly to grieve, that's clear !
While good humour each face is adorning,
While sorrow in glee we are scorning,
We won't go home till morning,
Till daylight does appear !
We won't go home till morning,
We won't go home till morning, &c.
Till daylight does appear !
Till daylight, &c.
We won't go home till morning,
Till daylight, does appear !
A boon to man was granted—
The world became enchanted,
And sorrow in fright took wing !
But to keep her for ever away boys,
We to Bacchus our homage must pay, boys,
So here while we may let us stay, boys,
And out of pure gratitude sing—
We won't go home, &c.
As poets of old could tell, O—
With nectar he used to get mellow—
(And no doubt it was jolly good stuff !)
Such examples we cannot but follow,
Then hogsheads of wine let us swallow,
Till we beat the old gentleman hollow,
But never cry ' Hold, enough !'
So we can't go home till morning—
We won't go home, &c.
When bright in the sparkling glasses ?
'Tis quaffed to the beautiful lasses—
Oh ! rich are the joys that spring ;
Since the brightest of pleasure on earth, boys.
Must in the full wine cup have birth, boys,
Brave Bacchus will join in our mirth, boys,
And merrily, merrily sing—
We won't go home, &c.
We won't go home 'till morning,
We won't go home 'till morning,
We won't go home 'till morning,
'Till daylight doth appear.
(Charles Dickens: The Pickwick Papers, Chapter 7)
Bár Dickens szerint énekelték, és én elhiszem neki, mégiscsak ő írta a könyvet, csak a dal szövegét találtam meg, ahhoz viszont illusztrációt is tudok mutatni.
We wo'nt go Home till
Morning.A fig for melancholy—
Since grieving's all a folly,
'Tis folly to grieve, that's clear !
While good humour each face is adorning,
While sorrow in glee we are scorning,
We won't go home till morning,
Till daylight does appear !
We won't go home till morning,
We won't go home till morning, &c.
Till daylight does appear !
Till daylight, &c.
We won't go home till morning,
Till daylight, does appear !
A boon to man was granted—
The world became enchanted,
And sorrow in fright took wing !
But to keep her for ever away boys,
We to Bacchus our homage must pay, boys,
So here while we may let us stay, boys,
And out of pure gratitude sing—
We won't go home, &c.
As poets of old could tell, O—
With nectar he used to get mellow—
(And no doubt it was jolly good stuff !)
Such examples we cannot but follow,
Then hogsheads of wine let us swallow,
Till we beat the old gentleman hollow,
But never cry ' Hold, enough !'
So we can't go home till morning—
We won't go home, &c.
When bright in the sparkling glasses ?
'Tis quaffed to the beautiful lasses—
Oh ! rich are the joys that spring ;
Since the brightest of pleasure on earth, boys.
Must in the full wine cup have birth, boys,
Brave Bacchus will join in our mirth, boys,
And merrily, merrily sing—
We won't go home, &c.
Brave boys, let's all be jolly !When first the vine was planted,Great Jove was a hearty good fellow,What the pleasure of wine surpasses,
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