I am the world’s worst barfly poet.
A woman walks into a bar and asks for a double entendre;
the bar man gives her one.
Alcohol plus girls, always adds up to fun.
The Espresso Martini,
the taking a liberty,
gaining my manly confidence,
sadly a regular occ occ occurrence.
Oh the joys of every lager top I’ve drunk,
my fine thoughts all turned into thunk.
Wallies, rollmops and pickled eggs,
‘aving a knees up on wobbely legs.
One cube of ice and a single malt,
hoping for lock-in, don’t call a halt.
Tonight you look so lush my dear,
or is it just the beer talking I fear?
Kir Royale served up with plenty of fizz,
being too merry to complete the bizz.
I don’t like double entendre;
but I try to slip one in whenever I can.
Bar is OPEN!!!
- Tim Wells