Song Of Drunk Men Poem by Chukwuebuka Adebayo

Sunny morn in eves fading low,
Mirth of men that ends so slow;
At the very first bite of their meal
For our wound only death can heal
And our fire which only beer can still.


Son of dust, why won't you drink?
What is it that is making you think?
Life's fragile--you cannot hold its hull
You make more harm if you try to pull
Just like a butterfly sticking to a glue.


Praise your god for his blessing;
Then you'll see life is worth living
But if you and i should fret our face,
Then it feels we're at the wrong place
Cheer! Cheer! Cheer! We'll die tomorrow
Let's share and enjoy our day of sorrow
Let's paint all river's face--all with yellow.