On With the Dance!

Hi, Cockalorum!  But - Misery me!
What is the aftermath going to be?
   With joy at its zenith and sorrow its least,
   I am the skeleton come to the feast.
Now the centenary swells over all,
I am the writing aglow on the wall:
   Eat, drink and make merry.  Eat, drink and make merry.
   Hip, hip.  Cockahoop!  And alack-a-day derry!
I am the spoil-sport a-gnawing his nails,
Boding disaster when merriment fails.
   Dance, little lady; oh, dance while you may,
   Shout ye, good gentlemen.  Merrys the day!
Sorrow is looming.
Hear the far booming.
The ghouls and the ghosts are a-groaning and glooming.
   Today for the dancing, the love and the laughter,
   But what of the morning after?  Aye!
Happy-go-lucky!  But - Misery me.
What is the aftermath going to be?

Away with the skeleton!  Deep in his grave
Ram him and cram him and make him behave.
   We are the merry men, born of the sun;
   And this second century, fitly begun
Shall never mark back to follies of eld -
To ills and to errors past centuries held
   This is our century, shining and splendid,
   When spectres are banished and ill dreams are ended.
Never false fear, as of old, shall bedim it.
There isnt an ending, there isnt a limit
   To joy in our gifts that are rained from above.
   There isnt a finish to friendship and love -
Love of good laughter, good friends and good living.
There isnt an end to the gain from free giving.
   A fig for the pessimist, moaning mumchance!
   There isnt an aftermath.  On with the dance!