The Stewards

Sour has the wine
I and comrades drank
Like crude oil in a fish tank
Who can save a soul-less body of mine
I wish I had earlier died –
A dream better than this
Teary face behind bars dried
O! Sleeping on a stony bed of peace
Was I the first or the last
How long should my body wax
And my clothes trade for half plate
Don’t you forsake me still
Should I be alone in this haunted class
At least provide some classmates
Perchance I endure, this will be my last will

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