Air XXII -- Cotillon

Youth's the season made for joys,
Love is then our duty,
She alone who that employs,
Well deserves her beauty.
    Let's be gay,
    While we may,
Beauty's a flower, despised in decay,

Chorus
    Youth's the season etc.

Let us drink and sport to-day,
Ours is not to-morrow.
Love with youth flies swift away,
Age is nought but sorrow.
    Dance and sing,
    Time's on the wing.
Life never knows the return of spring.

Chorus
    Let us drink, etc.