Thursday, January 5, 2012

Jug of Jack


Had I but known the total count
Of calories in beer,
I might resemble more a rope,
And less a massive sphere.

And had the local vintner marked
The bottles that I drank,
I may have slept far fewer nights
Down in the sheriff’s tank.

And had the town’s distillery
Provided further clues,
I might have fallen out of love
With spirits, wine and booze.

But as it is, they hid the facts
About their vile brew,
And left my flask and I to dance
Our little pas de deux.

So here I sit, a broken man,
A dipsomaniac,
All from the lack of labeling
Upon my jug of Jack.

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