Classic Poem

They make their feasts, and fill their cups—
They drink the rosy wine—
They seek for pleasure in the bowl:—
Their search is not like mine.
From misery I freedom seek—
I crave relief from pain;
From hunger, poverty, and cold—
'll go get drunk again!

The wind doth through my garments run—
I'm naked to the blast;
Two days have flutter'd o'er my head
Since last I broke my fast.
But I'll go drink, and straightway clad
In purple I shall be;
And I shall feast at tables spread
With rich men's luxury!

My wife is naked,—and she begs
Her bread from door to door;
She sleeps on clay each night beside
Her hungry children four!
She drinks—I drink: for why? it drives
All poverty away;
And starving babies grow again
Like happy children gay!

In broad-cloth clad, with belly full,
A sermon you can preach;
But hunger, cold, and nakedness,
Another song would teach.
I'm bad and vile—what matters that
To outcasts such as we?
Bread is denied—come wife, we'll drink
Again, and happy be!