Folly of the drunkard

Gods and demons,
Angels and devils,
Heaven and hell,
Earth and this house.


Built for a prince he told,
Drawn by Da'vinci himself!
It reeks of luxury and art,
But just a wee bit old.

For quarter of my gold,
He happily sold,
And tarry did not a second more

I think he giggles,
Whenever he sees gold,
For I was his biggest load.

From rats to birds,
Mold to rusted bolts,
It couldn't get any older!

Oh the orchard is angels' abode!
He praised with valor.
But skipped the part
Where they left before it stank.


Lake filled freshly from the Arctics!
None fresher in a thousand mile!
Yet I wasn't fated to this divine lake,
But another divine grotesque swamp.


Rich history he said,
Of what I learnt myself,
Rodents' excretion of black and white,
Surely some of them where of 1600's


Sigh but there's none to blame,
But my drunken self,
For he just did his trade,
At the cost of my head.


How I saw heaven in hell,
I truly must commend
That tavern's ale
It truly was something else.