Three Airs for the Beggar's Opera, Air XXII
Youth's the season made for joys, Love is then our duty; She alone who that employs, Well deserves her beauty. Let's be gay, While we may, Beauty's a flower despis'd in decay. Let us drink and sport to-day, Ours is not tomorrow. Love with youth flies swift away, Age is nought but sorrow. Dance and sing, Time's on the wing, Life never knows the return of spring.