Wednesday, October 25, 2006

#185: October 25, 2006

O brew me up a batch of bitter beer;
Distill me whiskey from your sourest corn;
Stomp wine from grapes too early in the year,
And serve it to me straight--I am forlorn.

My ankles swell, my stomach gives me pain,
My nerves are dull, all sense begins to fail;
And bitter thoughts entirely rule my brain,
So quick with that new wine, moonshine, and ale.

The beer is medicine for aching joints;
The whiskey cleans the pipes and fires the blood;
The wine invigorates heads it anoints
And makes life's mysteries well understood.

Let me be drunk on bitterness and bile,
And turn it thus to sweetness--for a while.

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