DRUNK


With a hand and four fingers

I twiddle a thumb.

I ho and I hum.

Sitting up high on a mountain top

Wondering why,

I don’t just jump off and drop

Into the valley below.

Where I see the welcoming snow,

Which might soften the blow

Or it could deaden the sound

As I hit unyielding ground.

But what am I thinking?

I must have been drinking

Because I’m sat in a bar,

Thinking the way out’s to far

And glad I left the car

With a friend.

Who might lend me an ear.

And I think of all this

As I’m drinking my beer.

My mind’s a bit queer.

A bit Edward Lear.

There there my dear

The barmaid said.

As she cradled my head

In a double vodka and lime.

I think it might be time,

To go.

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