Comrades, Fill No Glass for Me - Stephen Foster, Frank Luther, The Century Quartet

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

Oh, 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 teardrops nightly steal

From wounded hearts that I should heal

Though, boon companions ye may be

Oh, 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 centred 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