Music, the food of love,
The gentle reliever of care,
Gift of the Pow'r above,
Please with a cheerful air,
Touch with a joyful sound
The sense of a mortal divine
May his days and his pow'r abound,
By the pow'r of the Une and Trine.
His absence was autumn his presence is spring,
That ever new life and new pleasure does bring.
Then all that have voices, let 'em cheerfully sing,
And those that have none may say: God save the King'.