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[There's a long pause here, because he definitely has a particular one in mind. It's one that seems oddly fitting, here and now.

When he starts up again, his voice is more somber - even a little melancholy. He sings the whole thing through, instead of just a verse or two.]

We meet ‘neath the sounding rafters
And the walls around are bare
As they echo to our laughter
T’would seem that the dead were there

So stand to your glasses steady
It's all we have left to prize
Quaff a cup to the dead already
And one to the next man who dies

Time was when we frowned on others
We thought we were wiser then
But now, let us all be brothers
For we never may meet again

Cut off from the land that bore us
Betrayed by the land we find
The good men have gone before us
And only the dull left behind

So stand to your glasses steady
This world is a web of lies
Then here’s to the dead already
And one to the next man who dies

Here’s an end to this mournful story
For death is a distant friend
So here’s to a life of glory
And a laurel to crown each end

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