The Fools Den

Where does the wise man turn to
When sense and sagacity fail him
When his wit and acumen run askew

He turns to the inn at the centre of the woods
Where losers of the land meet and greet

Theres beer and meat
And poker and chess
Theres everything much
And everything less

Nothing like some song and dance
Nothing like a drink served by grubby fingers
On a dirty wooden table
To rekindle the spirit

Life being lived ceaselessly,
carelessly,
thoroughly

Or quite so?

Life being lived breathlessly,
excitably,
feverishly

Or quite so?

Is it enough to see a life lived
To make one want to live

Is it enough to see life loved
To make one want to love

Is it enough to see content faces
To be content

The wise man's piercing eyes
are observing the merriment

Looking at weak men rejoice
at something and anything,
at nothing and everything

Wisdom is the harbinger of suffering
All joy lies with the fools