Early one morning, as the bus left Boston Town
An old man sat down next to me
And he said with a smile,
Son could we talk for a while,
to help pass the time?

I was about to go to sleep,
when I saw his sorry eyes
When I said that would be fine with me
His face lit up, handed me a paper cut,
filled it up with wine

Chorus:
He said, I'll drink to your happiness,
you can drink to mine
But the only happiness I have,
is in this bottle of wine

He said, I'm going to Syracuse,
to see my daughter's son
He must be about 9 or 10, and he is my friend
At least he was back when He was 3 or 4

He said I used to be, quite a wealthy man,
until my wife past away
And then I began to drink,
and drinking makes me think
And thinking makes me drink, my life away

He said, I'll drink to your happiness,
you can drink to mine
But the only happiness I have,
is in this bottle of wine

I said, how come it's been so long,
since you've seen your family
Well he just closed his eyes and said,
Now they don't' keep in touch
They think I drink too much,
and it's not their style
And when the bus pulled into Albany
He smiled and said to me,
"Son, I know a bar, and it ain't too far
We can some booze, I never did like Syracuse
It's not my style"

He said, I'll drink to your happiness,
you can drink to mine
But the only happiness I have,
is in this bottle of wine

In this bottle of wine
In this bottle of wine

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