Rude Men Are Good In Laughing

Rude men are good in laughing, Tender ones in grief are smart. Only I do need nothing, Nobody 's in my heart. Yet, for stray dogs, I feel a pity, With myself just a bit concern. My curved road through this city Brought me straight in this tavern. Here, for acute spirit shortage, Buddies, just each of us, Not once and not twice did mortgage Own pants for one full glass. I'm looking at the `window dully, And my heart is dripping sweat, While bright sunbeams only sully By fine dust the sweating street. On the street, a cute and sappy Boy, in free and easy `pose Stands, and looks extremely happy, Picking his own snotty nose. Go, go ahead, my dear, Poke there your finger whole. Hopefully, you will fear To shove like that into your soul. Believe me, it really works. Look at these bottles in a line! I am collecting their corks To plug with `them the soul of mine.