Pope and Sultan

THE POPE he leads a happy life;

He fears not married care nor strife;

He drinks the best of Rhenish wine—

I would the Pope’s gay lot were mine.

CHORUS

He drinks the best of Rhenish wine—

I would the Pope’s gay lot were mine.

But then, all happy’s not his life;

He has not maid nor blooming wife,

Nor child has he to raise his hope—

I would not wish to be the Pope.

The Sultan better pleases me;

His is a life of jollity;

His wives are many as his will—

I would the Sultan’s throne then fill.

But even he’s a wretched man;

He must obey his Alcoran;

And dares not drink one drop of wine—

I would not change his lot for mine.

So, then, I’ll hold my lowly stand,

And live in German fatherland;

I’ll kiss my maiden fair and fine,

And drink the best of Rhenish wine.

Whene’er my maiden kisses me,

I’ll think that I the Sultan be;

And when my cheery glass I tope,

I’ll fancy then I am the Pope.