Friend, so often to the wall with you
                                          under the old general
as, earlier, I'd greased back my hair
                                          and got crazy drunk [with you].

At [the first taste of] war I lost my appetite,
                                          you consumed it another decade.

A feast to Jove: set your weary bones down . . .
highest card buys the booze . . .
                                          a wayzgoose for my wayward friend.