There’s nocht sae sober as a man blin’ drunk.

My Nation's Soul (I) | Daily Reckless
Or dost thou mak’ a thistle o’ me, wumman? But for thee I were as happy as the munelicht, withoot care, But thocht o’ thee—o’ thy contempt and ire— Turns hauf the warld into the youky thistle there, F...