Mulled ale for the frozen man, And mulled ale for the weary: For mulled ale is the body's friend And makes the sick heart merry.
I heard word Of bellied sailcloth, Creak of oars, And gold in Eastland. Then I smelled A smell remembered: Salt of spray And black-pitched boat's keel.
A wise man, once he is past fifty, does not befuddle his senses with strong drink, nor make violent love in the cool spring night, nor dance on his hands.
