Vive Café

Come Lady of dee Attic Board,
and Gentlemen togeder,
Pray listen to one little vord,
From von poor little feller;
To praise poor me,
Ah none do try,
All has deir turn,
But nought have I.
Love sings dee song,
All laughs for Love,
Some kiss dee Boy,
Some kiss his dove,
Vine cracks his joke,
And in dee line
He tells dee feats,
And strives to shine;
E’en lemon cream
may speak in Verse,
Its sours and sweets
In rhymes rehearse;
Helas! poor ting,
Vill Lady say,
Vat is your name?
Ah Mesdames! — Je m’appelle
    Café

Ven Lady nod
Who gives new life?
Ven Bacchus throb,
Who calm dee strife?
Ven members meet
By Attic chest,
Vid des bas bleus,
And Jarretières best;
Each one for luck
Vid crossed leg
Each bird intent
On his own egg;
And sit around
In anxious mood,
To mark dee hatch,
Deny dee brood,
Who sails around
And breathes dee lip?
Or sheds his fumes,
Vid every sip?
Who points dee smile’s
Arch force, I pray?
Who merveilles vorks
Parbleu! Messieurs, c’est moi
    Café

Without me, sure,
Dee chest would fall,
Génie would droop,
Vid members all;
Dee Muses too,
Vould soon decline,
For I am dey,
And dey be mine.¹
And mirth no more,
Could lift her head,
Les Sciences would
Be mute and dead:
All dee Beaux-arts,
Vould sink to shame,
And dee Belles-Lettres
Fly off vid Fame,
Did I not rule
Troughout dee land,
I don’t believe
Dee vorld could stand.

Den rendez-moi,
Les hommages dûs,
For all success,
Tank me, not you.
And more dan dis,
But not less true,
I gain’d your cause
A Waterloo.
I live in camp,
I live in cot,
I live in court
Vere am I not?
Amour is sweet
Ah! Pardi! Oui!
And vine is good,
But not like me.
Monsieur Léandre
Ma foi! Chante bien,
But sans mon aide,
He could do rien — 
Den no more song
Of dem, I pray
Messieurs et Dames, c’est moi que vous devez love.

Dit, Mademoiselle Présidente,
Elevez vos beaux yeux!
Chantons tour-à-tour nous attraita:
Peut-on faire mieux?
A vous il restera sagesse,
Esprit, Génie, Beauté
A moi Feu Divin, Allègresse
Pouvoir absolu, comme — Café.
J’aime la modestie,
Et je ne dirai plus;

Quand à Monsieur Léandre,
Je luis fais mes adieux,
Certes, ce n’est pas à lui,
D’oser parler à nous deux
Un être qui doit mourir d’age,
Quand je serai rigoureux.

Chantons, Chantons, Présidente,
Vive Café!
Vive l’Attic Chest,
Et vivent now attraita!
Je suis tout-à-vous;
Vous n’êtes rien sans moi;
Vivons toujours ensemble,
Chacun pour soi

Vivent George et Louis,
et vive lad paix!
Vive tout le monde!
Mais, pour que tout aille bien,
    Vive Café!