Come the weekend, I feel I've earned the right
to drink too much. So don't get on my case.
It's moderation every other night
(or most, 'least ways), so if I got a taste
for a third beer, a second glass of wine,
a whiskey chaser, a tequila neat,
a G & T--the damage will be mine
and mine alone. So come on, it's my treat.
Tomorrow it's back to that slow dull grind
that inches us toward our long-promised rest
eight hours at a pop. So let's not mind
too much to put our livers to the test.
Livers' for livin', so the poet saith.
Here's to long life, good drunks, and quiet death.
Good luck with Modern Drunkard.
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