Elk Toasts

Here's to the four hinges of Friendship
       Swearing, Lying, Stealing and Drinking.
When, you swear, swear by your country ;
        When you lie, lie for a pretty woman;
When you steal, steal away from bad company;
        And when you drink, drink with me.

—A favorite toast of the Elks.

[1903, "Hello Bill" Toasts]

The Original Jolly Corks Toast.

Now is the hour when Elkdon's tower is darkened by the shroud of night,
and Father Time on his silverchime toll's off each moment's flight.

In Cloistered halls each Elk recalls his Brothers where'er they be,
and traces their faces to well-known places in the annals of memory.

Whether they stand on a foreign land or lie on an earthen bed,
whether they be on the boundless sea with the breakers of death ahead.

What'er their plight on this eerie night what'er their plight may be,
where ever they are be it near or far they are thinking of you and me.

So drink from the fountain of fellowship to the Brother who clasped your hand
and wrote your worth in the rock of earth and your faults upon the sand.

TO OUR ABSENT BROTHERS.

11th Hour Toast

You have heard the tolling of 11 strokes.
This is to impress upon you that with us, the hour of 11 has a tender significance.

Wherever an Elk may roam, whatever his lot in life may be, when this hour falls upon the dial of night, the great heart of Elkdom swells and throbs.

It is the golden hour of recollection, the homecoming of those who wander, the mystic roll call of those who will come no more.

Living or dead, an Elk is never forgotten, never forsaken.

Morning and noon may pass him by, the light of day sink heedlessly in the West, but ere the shadows of midnight shall fall, the chimes of memory will be pealing forth the friendly message,

"To our absent members."

11 O'CLOCK TOAST

Be still and listen my brothers, cease your gaiety and mirth.
Eleven strokes are tolling -- to Elks throughout the earth.

Their music softly pealing -- their message far and near.
Like the throbbing heart of Elkdom -- they speak justice and good cheer.

For an Elk is never forgotten -- wherever he may roam.
What'er his lot in life may be -- eleven brings him home.

The sunshine finds him busy -- The evening holds no time.
But the eleven hour is sacred -- for the sake of auld lang syne.

And for those whose race is ended -- Their course runs true and well.
Those eleven strokes are chanting -- Sweet memories saddened knell.

So cease your mirth and laughter. It is the hour so dear yet dread.
When we toast our absent brothers -- the living and the dead.

TO OUR ABSENT BROTHERS

The Eleventh Hour

Eleven has struck on the Eastern coast,
The Elks have given their standing toast,

"To our absent Brothers," where'er they be.
Whether on land or on the sea.

"To our absent Brothers," from East to West.
Good wishes we send our very best.

The Lodge in the mountains and on the plain.
At eleven takes up this glad refrain:

"To our absent Brothers," the toast peals forth
From the sunny South, to the frozen North.

Though many in foreign lands may roam.
They know at that hour they are thought of at home

The toast even reaches the other shore.
Where they live who meet with us no more.

Like an echo, it comes back loud and clear
"To our absent Brothers," 'till we meet here

So with loving thought, and helping hand,
The work goes on o'er all our land.

And only the Ruler Supreme can know
The good Elks do wherever they go.

Eleven strikes on the Western coast.
The Elks are giving their standing toast.

"To our absent Brothers," from West to East.
Including the greatest unto the least,

For at this Elks' hour we all agree,
"To our absent Brothers," B. P. O. E.

[Mrs. H.A. Morton, Santa Monica, 10/31/13, Dedicated to Santa Monica Lodge No. 906L — From The Pacific Coast Elk]