The Bartender

Come,
Take a seat,
Tell me good sire,
What would you like?
A drop of ale old, expensive,
Or wine deep red?
To
Quell sorrow deep-seated
Or to wipe away a weary day?
I am your host, with a cloth filthy.
 
Tell,
Have a drink,
Fret not good sire,
The night is yours to grasp
See the lady yonder, sire?
Pretty is she; Alone is she.
Go
Disperse her sorrow deep-seated
Harvest for a weary day.
I am your friend, with a cloth filthy.
 
Live,
And dance along,
To the merry tune, good sire,
Love not misery, for misery not love love;
And while night sings promiscuity,
Dance till passion is passionate.
Woe
Shall find another soul to tamper,
And you shall set the night ablaze.
I am your bartender, with a cloth filthy.