Dry
One week in, and I'd kill for a cold glass of beer.(Say the word and I will, for a cold glass of beer.)
There's no painkiller out there that works half so well;
I would trade any pill for a cold glass of beer.
I would storm any castle, brave the fires of Hell,
Climb that Duke of York's hill for a cold glass of beer.
Free drinks, but for pickle fans only? That's swell!
I'd get slathered in dill for a cold glass of beer.
There's a bar in the junkyard? I won't mind the smell;
I'd parade through the swill for a cold glass of beer.
Bisexual threesomes? Sure! That won't repel—
I'd do both Jack and Jill for a cold glass of beer.
Whose idea was this month off from drinking, pray tell?
You can send them my bill for a cold glass of beer.
Ah, Court, 'twas your hubris that spawned this dry spell,
And you'll wait three weeks still for a cold glass of beer.
Poetry by Lady Courtaire
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Written on 2020-09-18 at 02:53
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