It was coming Christmas time
The festive bells began to chime
We were having a pint, or nine
Everything was going fine
Until this so-called mate of mine
Said 'Do you want a drink? ' via the standard mime
I nodded, expecting a snifter sublime
Perchance a classic wine
From a historic, ancient vine
But then, the heartbreaking line
IT'S BAILEYS AND LIME!
On this fragrant beige slime
I was expected to dine
With molar and canine
I chewed into overtime
For the end I began to pine
I'd rather drink turpentine
Or something equally asinine
Give me a beverage benign
From this ridiculous pursuit I resign
Esra Sloblock
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mr-congealneality/
