The Mug That Wouldn’t Empty

Old Tom found a tankard At the bottom of a well, It smelled of hops and thunder And it rang just like a bell. He filled it once with cider, Then he drank it to the floor— But when he raised it upside down, The cider came once more! So drink it high, drink it low, Pass the merry measure! Coins may flee and boots may split, But laughter is a treasure! Stamp your feet and clap in time, Let every table roar— Here’s to the mug that wouldn’t empty And the fool who asked for more! The brewer took a swallow And declared it far too strong; The baker drank another And began to sing a song. The blacksmith kissed the serving maid, Then apologized at noon— While the landlord danced upon a chair And argued with the moon! So drink it high, drink it low, Pass the merry measure! Coins may flee and boots may split, But laughter is a treasure! Stamp your feet and clap in time, Let every table roar— Here’s to the mug that wouldn’t empty And the fool who asked for more! A wizard tried to test it With a spell of ancient lore; The mug replied by belching foam And spilling on the floor. A knight demanded single combat, With his helmet on his head— The tankard won by half past ten; The knight went home to bed. A halfling climbed inside it To investigate the brew; He vanished for an hour And returned without a shoe. He said, “There’s fields of barley And a golden river there— But mind the geese beyond the bridge, They charge a copper fare!” So drink it high, drink it low, Pass the merry measure! Coins may flee and boots may split, But laughter is a treasure! Stamp your feet and clap in time, Let every table roar— Here’s to the mug that wouldn’t empty And the fool who asked for more! Who drank the ale? We drank the ale! Who broke the chair? We weren’t there! Who kissed the cook? We’ll never tell! Then fill the mug— And ring the bell! At last old Tom grew weary And he set it on the shelf, Saying, “No more endless drinking— I must save me from myself.” But every night at closing time, When silence filled the door, The mug would softly whisper: “Tom… Just one more.” So drink it high, drink it low, Pass the merry measure! Friends may roam and years may fly, But songs remain a treasure! Stamp your feet and clap in time, Let every table roar— Here’s to the mug that wouldn’t empty, To the friends who filled the floor, To the cook, the crew, the wandering few— And one ridiculous drink more!