Go on and pour me two glasses of wine;
I'll tell you when I need some more to drink.
'Cause lately it's been hurting me to think--
a few more snorts of this and I'll be fine.
There's brisker pipes than poetry for dance,
Old Terence said before he had to die.
He was my friend--I can't think he would lie;
so quaff quintessence while you've got the chance.
Our life's enjoyment lasts but for a season,
and Death's duration is eternity.
Why not enjoy a cocktail, maybe three?
They call the thing a "liver" for a reason!
I've heard the grave's a private place, and nice;
but just try getting tonic there, or ice.
No comments:
Post a Comment