There are people, I know, to be found, 
Who say, and apparently think, 
That sorrow and care may be drowned 
By a timely consumption of drink. 

Does not man, these enthusiasts ask, 
Most nearly approach the divine, 
When engaged in the soul-stirring task 
Of filling his body with wine? 

Have not beggars been frequently known, 
When satisfied, soaked, and replete, 
To imagine their bench was a throne 
And the civilised world at their feet? 

Lord Byron has finely described 
The remarkably soothing effect 
Of liquor, profusely imbibed, 
On a soul that is shattered and wrecked. 

In short, if your body or mind 
Or your soul or your purse come to grief, 
You need only get drunk, and you'll find 
Complete and immediate relief. 

For myself, I have managed to do 
Without having recourse to this plan, 
So I can't write a poem for you, 
And you'd better get someone who can.