Pissed, pie-eyed, or maybe, merely drunk,
Bladdered, leathered, or as drunk as a skunk,
Mashed, smashed, pickled, piddled or tiddled,
Off their heads & continuously wasted
& widdled,
Zonked, plonked & upon their dizzy backs
laid,
Squiffy, whiffy, arms akimbo & legs well
splayed,
Winded by wine, tickled by tots, blinkered by
beer,
Whiskey loosened tongues & maudlin sung
tears,
Words slurring, tongues furring, it matters
not a jot,
Of bourbon, vodka, gin, whatever, just
another tot,
Bars, pubs, taverns, inns, towers of addled brains,
Havens where they go, to forget their living pains,
Bacchus at his feast, could not compete with this,
I fear, something in this place, is seriously
amiss.
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