Dinner with Ben Franklin on Friday night The invitation read Of course I wrote and thanked him I wouldn't miss it for the world, I said His table is so well kept
 
He plays the glass harmonica And talks of wind and kites The habits of the court of France And other strange delights Of course I've heard it all before On other wintry nights And yet there is no better Wine or conversation
 
The English call it claret And clear and red it sits inside my glass Sent to us from Paris, A greater kindness never came to pass We'll drink his health with the last
 
He plays the glass harmonica And talks of wind and kites Of almanacs and spectacles And other strange delights Of course I've heard it all before On other wintry nights And yet there is no better Wine or conversation
 
Times goes by in stories Wine goes by, dark and young When it comes my turn here I'll be telling one with a purple tongue The night grows philosophic I miss a word or two it must be said As I hear them talking I sink a little deeper in my chair Thanking the fates that brought me there
 
He plays the glass harmonica And talks of wind and kites Of lightning and odometers And other strange delights Of course I've heard it all before On other wintry nights And yet there is no better Wine or conversation
 
He plays the glass harmonica And talks of wind and kites The habits of the court of France And other strange delights Of course I've heard it all before On other wintry nights And yet there is no better Wine or conversation