Stephen Foster — Comrades Fill No Glass for Me

Oh! comrades, fill no glass for me To drown my soul in liquid flame For if I drank, the toast should be To blighted fortune health and fame Yet, though I long to quell the strife That passion holds against my life Still, boon companions may ye be But comrades, fill no glass for me Still, boon companions may ye be But comrades, fill no glass for me I know a breast that once was light Whose patient sufferings need my care I know a hearth that once was bright But drooping hopes have nestled there Then while the tear drops nightly steal From wounded hearts that I should heal Though boon companions may ye be But comrades, fill no glass for me Though boon companions may ye be But comrades, fill no glass for me When I was young I felt the tide Of aspirations undefiled But manhood’s years have wronged the pride My parents centered in their child Then, by a mother’s sacred tear By all that memory should revere Though boon companions may ye be Oh! comrades, fill no glass for me Though boon companions may ye be Oh! comrades, fill no glass for me