There once was a likeable lush
who drank till he made himself blush.
He drank and up ended
fine rye whisky blended,
then passed out cold under a bush.
A friend found him, after a search,
in a graveyard beside a small church.
“You are drunk again,
my oft drunken friend.
Still, I can’t leave you here in the lurch.”
His friend dragged him into a tavern
the lush thought it was a nice cavern.
After coffee and water,
he yelled to the waiter,
“Tis a glass of rye whisky I yearn!”
The friend threw up both his hands,
“Let him sleep wherever he lands!”
Out into the night
the lush staggered from sight
shouting rather outrageous demands.
The sagacious bartender went hush
for he feared for the life of the lush,
asked, “What if the poor lad
was found lost, drunk, and dead?”
The friend fled from the bar in a rush.
© allets 2021