Walkin on Air

Pip in a Pub

Guffaws and waves of sapid burps
mixed with acceptable flatulence,
disturbed dejected losers' slurps:
we drank to earn prominence!

Searing jabs of neuron pain
zipped along pathways in my brain:
incoherent fogs and misty vapour
the fabled yard of ale belabour!

Yet, with strong and steady hand,
a vision as Champion of Beer-land,
down I quaff that liquid, audacious,
later rambling and loquacious.

Not a sing drop was to spill,
the glass-rim never left my lips;
but now comes time to pay the bill
and so here ends this string of fibs.

Now where did I put my wallet?
Money bag or whatever you call it?
There is no cash anyway,
so have to pay some other day!

by Oraculus on September 18, 2015.   All rights reserved

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Pip in a Pub

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