From Oedipus to Hamlet
We all most run the gamut
Of weeping lies and blame,
So acquire a taste for sorrow
And relish each tomorrow
The trick's to thrive on suffering and pain
O, sing ting-a-ling
Let's have another fling
The coffin's the cure for what ails ye.
When Fate bestows commission
Give a smile of sweet submission
And always keep in mind-
That Fortune favors failure
Tnat those doubts which must assail you
Are real! you're not, after all, yet blind.
O sing ting-a-ling
Let's have another fling
The coffin's the cure for what ails ye.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem