Sunday, October 11, 2009

Drinking Song by Loudon Wainwright

Drunk men stagger, drunk men fall,
Drunk men swear and that's not all,
Quite often they will urinate outdoors.
Like widowed women, drunk men weep,
Like children curled up, drunk men sleep,
Like a dog, a drunk will crawl around on all fours.

Be he broke bum or rich rake, his dinner be it bread or cake
His beverage be the worse of whiskey, finest wine.
Puke it stinks and so it seems that drunkards go to great extremes
But there has yet to be a perfectly straight line

Drunks talk strong when drunks are weak,
It's easy for a drunk to speak -- straight from the heart
Yeah, drunks will fight they're not afraid
To kiss the mistress, make the maid
It's a manly art.

Oh but the drink a toll will take, blood vessels in the nose will break
Bags beneath the eyes another sign

Drunks get ugly, so it seems that drunkards go to great extremes
But there has yet to be a perfectly straight line.

Drunks are friendly when they're drunk and
Drunks are hostile when they're drunk
Which drunk it is, it all depends upon.
When drunks aren't drunk, they thirst for drink,
Elephants are grey not pink
When the drink evaporates the man is gone, gone , gone, gone

Back to the yachts and the subway cars
The hip-flasks and fruit jars
Flat on the face and flat on the behind

Oh, drunks get drunk and so it seems that drunkards go to great extremes
There has yet to be a perfectly straight line.

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