Our eyes meet across the street
My heart, it flutters, my knees grow weak
Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!
I’ve got to drink, I’ve got to guzzle
My head is spinning, my mind’s a muddle
I spy that bottle of Bristol Cream
And, once again, I’m in a dream
Down it goes, my one true pleasure
I’ll down it in one or at my leisure
My lips, they touch the cold, cold glass
And with the craving, the pain has passed
If only my wife could see me now!
How she would frown, the daft old cow!
With “get me this” and “don’t do that”
She’d tan my hide at the drop of a hat
But she ain’t here to push me about
Just me, the jukebox and a glass of stout
Another swift chaser of vodka and orange
To round off my night of drink-sodden binge
“What’s your poison, Sir, whisky or gin?”
Not that it matters, the state I’m in
The nonsense I talk hides an addict’s frown
My tears of laughter the tears of a clown
But in the meantime, here’s a swift half
To forget the future and drink to the past
To hair of the dog that bit me twice
To pubs and bars where my one true vice
Still beckons me forth and holds my gaze
As I drown myself in a liquor-fuelled daze
Don’t remember much, can’t seem to think
But what do I care? Let’s drink! Drink! Drink!
– The Spideron, 1998