Reuben's Brethren or The Mercenary's Creed Robert E. Howard Recording
Drain the cup while the ale is bright, Brief truce to remorse and sorrow! I drink the health of my friend tonight- I may cut his throat tomorrow.
Tonight I fling a curse in the cup For the foe whose lines we sundered- I may ride in his ranks when the sun comes up And die for the flag I plundered.
Kisses I drank in the blaze of noon, At eve may be bitter as scorning- And I go in the light of a mocking moon To the woman I cursed this morning.
For deep in my soul the old ways brood- And I come of a restless breed- And my heart is blown in each drifting mood As clouds blow over the mead.