The Barkeep

One night as he served grog
The barkeep met a bard
An old bloke somewhat scarred
Who in self-induced fog
Bespoke of a life hard

"Before I was ill-fated
I held one truth most dear
To hold hope through all fear!
Thought that if I waited
Great things, they would appear"

And as he sipped his stout
The barkeep helped his crew
With beer spills as they grew
Though kept a good ear out
To give the drunk his due

"Yet as my life wore on
Those dreams that I could see
They never came to be!
Hope seems like such a con
Fool's gold if you ask me"

With that he drained his cup
The barkeep did not pry
Just wiped the counter dry
'Till at last, glancing up
Looked stupor in the eye

"It sounds like quite a jam
So I'll suspend my tact
And tell you a plain fact
That hope's not worth a damn
Without the will to act"