To sip the suds of sweetness
In a booming bawdy bar
I remain in my replete-ness
Cause I can’t control a car
I would like to linger longer
But I fear I’m facing far
And my sweat is smelling stronger
Than a tub that’s topped with tar
There’s a lot of lovely ladies
Flirting freely in the fore
Giving men but mystic ‘maybes’
Which makes ‘em want it more
They desire dainty flowers
Till their drool drips to the floor
And have been binging here for hours
Certain sickness is in store
The room is rung with riddles
Lasting late and long
Of felines playing fiddles
And of sailors singing songs
The pub has a plethora of patrons
And I’d bet that you belong
Among the maids and matrons
Here assembled in our throng
