Written for Sunday Scribblings.
Just to prove to myself that I don't know what I'm doing when I'm drunk.
I went out to the pub last night and had a couple of pints, of Rum!
I rolled home about two or three a.m. and crashed out on the sofa.
Some time later, I woke up, crawled up the wooden hill and went to bed.
It's not like me to get pissed so easily but when I do I zonk!
And when I zonk, I snore, so the sofa is the only place to go.
Sometimes the walls are paper thin, like in my house, then the whole gaff shakes!
I'd really like to have a date with you but don't let me near the Rum.
Or the Vodka or the Whisky or the whiskey or the G and T.
In fact, make me steer clear of the top shelf, don't let me near the vino.
The laughing gear is strong enough for me but it has to be hand pulled.
From the wood and gravity fed, I know they say: keg still does the trick.
But any Tom, Dick or Lazarus can get up after a few of them!
Forgive me Father, for getting Brahms, It's been a Rum time since my last...