{"id":1001,"date":"2013-11-17T10:32:04","date_gmt":"2013-11-17T18:32:04","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/?p=1001"},"modified":"2021-02-05T15:30:22","modified_gmt":"2021-02-05T23:30:22","slug":"1117","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/2013\/11\/17\/1117\/","title":{"rendered":"1117"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/p>\n

1117
\nI’m over being sober<\/p>\n

A Drunken Man’s Praise Of Sobriety<\/strong>
\nBy William Butler Yeats<\/p>\n

Come swish around, my pretty punk,
\nAnd keep me dancing still
\nThat I may stay a sober man
\nAlthough I drink my fill.<\/p>\n

Sobriety is a jewel
\nThat I do much adore;
\nAnd therefore keep me dancing
\nThough drunkards lie and snore.
\nO mind your feet, O mind your feet,
\nKeep dancing like a wave,
\nAnd under every dancer
\nA dead man in his grave.
\nNo ups and downs, my pretty,
\nA mermaid, not a punk;
\nA drunkard is a dead man,
\nAnd all dead men are drunk.<\/p>\n