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may, 1955
we doubt if any man nowadays puts a piece
of toast
in the bottom of his highball to improve the flavor,
but at one
time it was a standard ingredient of the
cup that cheers. A soggy custom,
perhaps, but it sur-
vives in the word we use to describe the friendly
bene-
diction good fellows bestow on each other when
their glasses clink,
playboy recently toured the better
bars and bistros, making note of some of
the choicest
toasts. We're passing them on to you with the hope
that
you'll find them livelier than the routine Skoal,
Prosit, L'chayim, Na
zdrowie, or Mud in your eye.
a round of toasts for men of good
cheer
Here's to it:
The birds do it.
The bees do it and die.
The dogs do it and get hung to
it.
Why don't you and I?
May you live as long as you want
to,
and want to as long as you live!
He is not drunk
Who, from the
floor,
Can rise again
And drink some more.
But he IS drunk
Who
prostrate lies
And cannot drink
And cannot rise.
To our wives and sweethearts:
may they
never meet!
Here's to good old whiskey,
So amber and so clear.
'Tis not so sweet as woman's
lips,
But a damned sight more
sincere.
Here's champagne to our real
friends
and real pain to our sham friends.
Here's to the man who takes a
wife,
Let him make no mistake:
For it makes a world of difference
Whose
wife it is you take.
I'll toast the girls who do,
I'll toast the girls who
don't.
But not the girls who say they
will
And later decide they won't.
But the girl I'll toast from break
of day
To the wee hours of the night
Is the
girl who says, "I never have—
But just for you, I might!"
May you be in Heaven half an
hour
before the Devil discovers you're dead.
To the love that lies in women's
eyes,
And lies, and lies, and lies.
Here's to you,
So sweet and
good.
God made you.
I wish I could.
May those who love truly be
always believed,
And may those who deceive be
always deceived.
Here's to woman! Would that
we could
fall into her arms
without falling into her hands.
May it never fail ya:
Your
genitalia!
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