The Pope He Leads A Happy Life, He Fears Not Married Care Nor Strife. He Drinks The Best Of Rhenish Wine, I Would The Pope'S Gay Lot Were Mine. But Yet All Happy'S Not His Life, He Has No Maid, Nor Blooming Wife; No Child Has He To Raise His Hope, I Would Not Wish To Be The Pope. The Sultan Better Pleases Me, His Is A Life Of Jollity; He's Wives As Many As He Will, I Would The Sultan'S Throne Then Fill. But Even He's A Wretched Man, He Must Obey The Alcoran; He Dare Not Drink One Drop Of Wine I Would Not Change His Lot For Mine. So Here I'll Take My Lowly Stand, I'll Drink My Own, My Native Land; I'll Kiss My Maiden Fair And Fine, And Drink The Best Of Rhenish Wine. And When My Maiden Kisses Me I'll Think That I The Sultan Be; And When My Cheery Glass I Tope, I'll Fancy Then I Am The Pope.