Poor drunkards, poor drunkards, take warning by me,
The fruits of transgression behold now I see;
My soul is tormented, my body confin’d;
My friends and my children left weeping behind.
Much intoxication my ruin has been,
And my dear companion I’ve barbarously slain;
In yonder cold graveyard her body doth lie,
And I am confined and must shortly die.
A solemn death warning to drunkards I leave,
While my poor body lies cold in the dark grave;