With Apologies
February 21, 2008
Crashing a Party One Drunken Eve
Whose brews these are I think I know
He’s stopped to use the bathroom though
He will not see me stealing beer
Or from his apartment me he’ll throw
The evening’s end is drawing near
And I, not drunk enough I fear
Yet drunk enough to eat that cake
Though it be made from hooves of deer
I’ll pretend I’m at a wake
Though me? Irish? I could not fake
Sometimes background is skin deep
What became of LP Mandrake?
The poem’s bad enough to weep
And I, sober, to bed will creep
On Thursday posts I hope to keep
On Thursday posts I hope to keep
