Big Al bought a round today.
The seas swam red and boiled away;
Parsimony she turned in shame
the day Big Al bought a round.

Insects from a bygone age
escaped his creaking wallet.
We gasped , we gaped, we laughed, we swore
at the awesome folly of it.

The queen (or king?) on banknotes blushed,
groats chinkered on the bar top,
ha’pennies danced with dizzy doubloons,
sestertii slipped upon the beer slops.

“For you my friends, so dear so true
(so thirsty, so expensive!)
my shout, I think, it’s only right
that I should be expansive.”

But Parsimony smirked in glee,
Silas Marner eat your heart out,
for we hadn’t noticed Time was called
when Big Al got his wad out.

The barmaid though, all brazen charm,
approached him with a grin
“What’s it to be Big Boy?” she asked
“I’m sure I’ll fit YOU in!”

Ashen appal in his alarm
as frothing ales appeared,
lagers, continental and chic,
a cornucopia of beers.

Chasers of the finest malt,
cigars by the lung-full,
rare Tibetan fermented yak’s milk,
exotic juices from the jungle.

Frugality’s loss, Bonhomie’s gain:
we partied long and late.
Parsimony threw back Big Al’s ring
and left in dark disgrace.