The drink that's in the drunkard's bowl
Is not the drink for me,
It kills his body and his soul,
How sad a sight is he!
But there's a drink that God has given,
Distilling in the showers of heaven,
In measures large and free;
Oh, that's the drink for me. (Repeat 3 ts.)
The stream that many prize so high,
Is not the stream for me;
For he who drinks it still is dry,
Forever dry he'll be.
But there's a stream so cool and clear,
The thirsty traveller lingers near,
Refreshed and glad is he;
Oh, that's the stream for me.
The winecup that so many prize
Is not the cup for me;
The aching head, the bloated face,
In its sad train I see,
But there's a cup of water pure,
And he who drinks it may be sure
Of strength, when old is he;--
Oh, that's the cup for me.
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