As I was leaving The Tavern early at dawn,
I met a preacher who hailed from a farm,
He talked to me about vice and sins,
Till I told him I was a 'devil' in human form.

What do these preachers know about men,
And women, who are totally heart-broken;
What will make them fathom why we spend,
Our evenings and nights with wine as friend,
Ah, if they could give thought and comprehend!

Lonely, betrayed, losers in love,
We drink yet remain high above,
Such preachers who appear holy,
Yet unable to share a tear's glee

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