Oft in extravaganza have I sighed among elite masses,
Upon turning down modest invites of clinking glasses.
For long suppressed the dark innate desire to booze,
& somewhere every time li’l sorrow did my heart ooze.
Ah! The woes of a Teetotaler!
Have been a fond witness to some fizzy Champagne ,
Then glanced away & grabbed a cola, all in disdain.
Thought of stealing a sip from its sparkling heart so pure,
How is it, what they call the ultimate distress cure?
Ah! The woes of a Teetotaler!
Certainly one day will I walk up to the sexy Red Wine,
Embrace her elegantly, kiss her, gently make her mine.
Will enjoy her companionship till heart’s content,
And forever will I cherish those leisurely moments spent.
Ah! The woes of a Teetotaler!
Not to mention the brilliance of magnificent Sir Whiskey,
However to hang out with His Majesty is undeniably dicey,
His enigmatic facade sweeps you to a world of utopia,
Calls for some inarticulate exhilaration and euphoria.
Ah! The woes of a Teetotaler!
Post all the sweet daydreaming, I wake up to realize,
A sworn teetotaler I am and alcohol I despise,
At once the delusions fade, thwarted I walk away,
But in my spirit the yearning furtively finds its stay.
Ah! The woes of a Teetotaler! Indeed!
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