Being one of Life’s carousers
I never dared wear turned-up trousers
Cos time and time and time again
I had to ‘grasp the porcelain’
And often pebble-dashed me shoes
Regurgitating excess booze
I always used to look and wonder
Why the latest batch of chunder
When I was pickled as a parrot
Came up looking like diced carrot?
It was years before it dawned
That all those technicolour yawns
Were telling me I must desist
And not spend all my spare time pissed!