The liquid cold fire

Cold in the touch,
The fire that burn the hearts and souls,
Which many a man happily embrace!
To errand the cold and the despair of the moment!

At the dawn of days,
In the breaking light of days,
Early riser they are,
At the pints and draught to serve,

The hotness in the chest,
Craved by many a soul,
So in earnest they seek,
For the cold at hand be gone!

Many at times for the moment,
The sorrow and despair overcloud be gone,
While some the Dutch courage derived,
So daring they thrilled!

But the trickle here,
The trickle there of the liquor,
The essence of life,
They waste away!

'So young we are in life,
The fullest we need must fill',
'So old we are for now,
The rest till end we'll cruise'

And young virtues submerged,
In the lure of the liquid cold fire,
The hoary head ought for wisdom,
The liquid cold fire will not!

Myriads of destinies once all bright,
In the drown of the liquor now deemed!
Old age well spent could've been,
The love of the liquor, totally denied!

On the roads, in the gutters,
At nights, and in some daylights,
Staggering and undulating like the trees,
So accustomed to the sights of many,

Their hold to life is weak,
Their hold with strength esmasculated!
Up and down the streets they totter,
Far out of their scope of reality to know!

Till the liver is gone!
Essence of life long gone away!
Far away from the young and the old,
To the liquid cold fire of the liquor!