The Bar On Beer Street And Gin Lane Poem by moe apu

Come in quoth he. Ye weary poor devils
What is mine is yours he quipped with hands a-flarin'
T'ward his barrage of demon drink.His eye smiling
that Succubus hint gleaming
just behind his light like in nightmare dreaming.
Poured he proceeded to fill people's glasses
who were now shouting for his Wiley advances
care abandoned.How's about ye young lad,
care for a taste that keep gentlemen glad?
And my cup he prompt filled till more then i want had
please enjoy for small pence you can sit all you want
and engage in mindless stories all day long.
'Yea' said a wrinkled face much young than I
'Let the world kill itself.We be content with this.'
This, my friend, was the last i saw of that dreary place
that will forever haunt my face
with images of the living that be dead
and the dead that think they live.
All night I keep vigil to guard my tempted soul
against that wretched wolf's howl of a call
and pray Lord keep my faith whole
so not to fall in that infernal hole.Amen.

Copyright © paul mburu watex | Year Posted 2016