Classic Poem

Miserable, miserable, weary of life,
Worn with turmoil, its dim and its strife,
And with its burden of grief,
Miserable, miserable.

Feeling my life one great error has been,
Filled to its full with the dark dregs of sin;
And all the woe which that brings,
Miserable, miserable.

Weary and heartsick I seek, but in vain,
A friend to share my sorrow and pain;
But there is no friend for me,
Miserable, miserable.

Yet 'tis an end but righteous and just,
Little do I deserve friendship and trust;
Let all my sorrow be mine,
Miserable, miserable.

Deeply I drink from the thrice bitter bowl,
Feeling the iron entering my soul;
With all its bitterest pangs;
Miserable, miserable.