Here,
With my beer I sit,
While golden moments flit.
Alas!
They pass by
Unheeded by and as they fly,
I being dry
Sit idly, sipping here,
My beer.
Oh! Finer far,
Than fame or riches are,
The graceful smoke of cigar
Why should I
Weep or sigh?
What if luck passed me by?
What if my hopes are dead?
My pleasures fled.
Have I not still
My fill?
Or right good cheer,
Cigar and beer.
Go whining youth for scorch
Go weep and wail
Sigh and grow pale.
Weave melancholy rhymes
On the old times,
Leave me to my beer
Gold is dross
Love is loss
So, let me gulp my sorrows down.
Or see them drown.
©mylcebon
M