I woke up this morning to horror:
All of my booze had been replaced by
A distinct lack of any restorer.
It was a tragedy to have run dry.
Quite clearly, the course for me to take was
To find just a bit more drink to consume
Before I came close to losing my buzz.
Such a fate would mean only certain doom.
An empty life inside an empty jar;
A day, an hour, a minute without
That wonderful drink that is in my bar
Most days, save for today, this day of drought.
My course to obtain more gin and spiced rum
Is a noble quest I will not hide from.
Back to the May Celebration.
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