Dinners and Luncheons by Paul Pierce (top ten ebook reader .txt) 📕

If we drink to China, we drink the poison of the "Sick Man of the East;" if we drink to Italy, we put "The Boot" on the wrong foot; if we drink to Peru, we burn our lips on the equator; so let us drink to him who hath not harm in his heart, venom in his veins, nor flaw in his flag—Uncle Sam.

Let us toast our huddled little brothers of the frigid North—the Esquimaux. They need it.

Far renowned for larnin' and piety,
Still I'd advance ye widout impropriety,
Father O'Flynn as the flower of them all.
Here's a health to you, Father O'Flynn,
Slainte and slainte and slainte agin.
Pow'rfulest preacher and tenderest teacher
And kindliest creature in ould Donegal.

To the stars and the stripes,
To the land of our birth,
The American girl—
The best things on earth.

Here's to the lying lips we meet,
For truthful lips are bores.
But lying lips are very sweet
When lying close to yours!
—Smart Set.

Drink to Life and the passing show,
And the eyes of the prettiest girl you know!

Drink, Drink, Drink!
Drink to the girl of your heart;
The wisest, the wittiest, the bravest, the prettiest;
May you never be far apart.

Here's to the girl—
With dash and whirl—
Who rides about in an auto;
Here's to the man
Who'll bridle her
To ride about as she "ought to."

Here's to love, the only fire against which there is no insurance.

Here's to the lasses we've loved, my lad,
Here's to the lips we've pressed;
For of kisses and lasses
Like liquor in glasses,
The last is always the best.

To Woman—When she is neither too young to be wise, nor too old to be careful.—Minnie Thomas Antrim.

To Woman—A paradox who puzzles when she pleases and pleases when she puzzles.—Minnie Thomas Antrim.

Here's to her whose presence is ever and always near,
Here's to her whose large brown eyes make life forever dear;
Here's to her whose fair white skin is clear as the whitest snow,
Here's to the sweetest of her sex—
The finest girl I know!

Here's to the rim of my lady's glass,
But tipped by her beautiful lip,
And here's to the thrill that must certainly pass
From the rim to the base of that fortunate glass
Whenever she takes a sip.
—Bayard Bacon.

Here's health to you and wealth to you,
Honors and gifts a thousand strong;
Here's name to you and fame to you,
Blessing and joy a whole life long.
But, lest bright Fortune's star grow dim,
And sometimes cease to move to you,
I fill my bumper to the brim
And pledge a lot of love to you!

I fill this cup to one made up
Of loveliness alone,
A woman, of her gentler sex
The seeming paragon.
Her health! and would on earth there stood
Some more of such a frame,
That life might be all poetry,
And weariness a name.
—Edward Coate Pinckney.

To my lady fair
I fill my cup!
To my lady fair
With the cheeks so rare
Where the dimples dare
To tarry;
To her footsteps bright
So like the flight
Of a swallow light
And airy—
To my lady fair
I fill my cup,
To my lady fair
I drink it up!—Bayard Bacon.

Oh, lovely woman! man's great bane
And joy! You ne'er can pall!
Source of all pleasure and all pain,
And—bless you! worth it all!
—Lewis.

Drink to fair woman, who, I think,
Is most entitled to it;
For if anything could ever drive me to drink,
She certainly could do it.—B. Jabez Jenkins.

Here's to woman, lovely woman—
Gladdest in her gladness when she's glad;
Saddest in her sadness when she's sad;
But her gladness when she's glad,
And her sadness when she's sad,
Aren't in it with her badness when she's bad.

I've toasted your eyes of blue, Marie,
I've toasted your hair of brown;
I've toasted your name with joyous glee
To every man in town.

I've done my best, so here's my plea.
Fair lady of winsome frown,
Could you decide to make for me
My toast of golden brown?

A slice of love; a piece of joy;
A chunk of adoration;
A sliver of unfailing health,
And bridal concentration;
An atom of the groom's content;
The sweetness of the bride—
And may the crumbs of comfort
With both of them abide.