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