Crow on a Tree

In a tavern of merriment and cheer,
There was Oldrich, the drunkard we revere.
From Ferdok Pale Ale to Premian Fire,
He'd drown his sorrows in an endless desire.
But fate had a twist, a moment so clear.

Oh, Oldrich, the wayward soul,
Your spirit lost in the bottle's control.
Till the day you met the squirrel so bold,
A life-changing tale waiting to unfold.

Through dim-lit woods, stumbling alone,
Oldrich encountered the squirrel, unknown.
With a horn on its head, an ominous sight,
The squirrel's gaze pierced through the night.
A wake-up call, his heart turned to stone.

Oh, Oldrich, the wayward soul,
Your spirit lost in the bottle's control.
Till the day you met the squirrel so bold,
A life-changing tale waiting to unfold.

Whispers in the darkness, the squirrel spoke,
"Oldrich, your path is shrouded in smoke.
The drink you consume, the life you forsake,
It's time for a change, a different wake.
Leave the bottle behind, let your spirit evoke."

Oldrich, with a heavy heart, heeded the call,
He saw the squirrel's wisdom, standing tall.
No longer captive to the drink's embrace,
He sought a brighter path, a sober space.
A decision made, breaking down the alcohol wall.

Oh, Oldrich, the wayward soul,
Your spirit lost in the bottle's control.
Till the day you met the squirrel so bold,
A life-changing tale waiting to unfold.

Raise a glass to Oldrich's newfound might,
A journey of strength, from darkness to light.
In the face of the squirrel, he chose to abstain,
From the clutches of drink, he would remain.
A song of transformation, shining so bright.

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