Brandy is dandy
and wine is fine
but liquor is quicker
and vodka divine.

Gin makes you sicker
and slows down your ticker
when you pull down your knickers
so more freely to bicker.

Thunderbird
is a wonder, stirred
and Night Train
makes my veins strain
to carry some of that good stuff to my heart.

Bacardi?
Sounds like a party, Marty
best not to be tardy
if you want any more than a sip.

But far finer than beer
is Everclear,
the king of all the liquors.
And when you wake
you’ll contemplate
why your ass is packed with Snickers.

And why a train
in the Alps? Complain
and with distain
I shall mock thee.

For to wake like such
is really too much
more than the finest hopes worth hoping.

A sewer that’s newer
or a brewer reviewer’s
front lawn: now those are blackout locations.

In a cage of bamboo
in the hills of Peru,
that’s practically a vacation.

In a birch bark canoe
impaled on a pool cue,
sure beats waking up on a space station.

As a victim of kung-fu
realizing you swallowed a kazoo,
still beats the men’s room of a gas station.

All covered in glue
sick with the Vietnamese flu,
at least then you’re free from temptation.

On the campus of Screw U
with a tattooed wazoo?
At least you’re getting an education.

In the cartoon milieu
with Yogi and Booboo,
that, my friend, will earn you a standing ovation.

But on the lamb with Pooh
for murdering Kanga and Roo?
Yeah, you could probably do better than that.

Best to cut back on the Bacardi, sicko.