Oh, Ben, pour another round
         for drunken me and my drunkard friends,
         we are getting lonelier.
              Oh, Ben, pour another one
              for my drunken friends and drunkard me,
              we are getting lonelier.
                   Oh please, yet another round,
                   Ben, me and my friends are drunken drunkards
                   and we’re getting lonelier.
                        Please, Ben, please, another round—
                        for drinking me to my drunkard friends
                        who’re all getting lonelier.

         Mix, Ben, pour again or we might miss
         the boiled eggs, the ripe green apples,
         and the peanuts on the bar.
              Mix us, pour, and we will mix
              the boiled eggs and ripe apples
              and the peanuts on the bar.
                   Mix us up, we are poor, Ben, poor, mixing
                   eggs and apples, hard and ripe,
                   with the peanuts on the bar.
                        Oh pour us a mix for poor poor us
                        who mix ripened apples with hard-boiled eggs
                        and crush peanuts on the bar.

         Crack! The thunder toasts the lightning flash—
         To poor drunk slobs, pissed in the rain,
         tumbling out of bars.
              Crack, says Ben, taunting thunder and lightning—
              You poor drunken slobs piss down the rain then
              rumble through my bar.
                   Crack—we thunder and flash our glasses down—
                   To Ben pouring piss down drunken slobs
                   as we crumble in his bar.
                        Crack, says the thunder to the lightning flash.
                        To us poor sloppy drunks it sends piss.
                        We tumble out of the bar.

         So long, Ben, another round gone
         another night done, another run, and still
         we are getting lonelier.
              So long then, Ben, we’ve gone around
              dancing till we’re done, the night run out and still
              we’re getting lonelier.
                   So last round then, gone round again,
                   the night like us is running down and done
                   and still we’re getting lonelier.
                        So long, Ben, you please us all around,
                        we’re gone to the night, still run down,
                        we are getting lonelier.

         <      >