A drinking man
It was on a road out of London pulled up at a pub
I heard them say the words that I remember to today.
The drinking man he suffers glug, glug, glug. He loves
The taste of whiskey, the craic, all that convivial shite
But he remembers, truly remembers - he's a creature of
The night. Looking for a moment of content, looking for
A solution, he rumbles all the lying, theft and prostitution.
He likes a drink or two or twenty, the more he drinks the
More heavenly, the music, the music of the blues, very
Convenient that blues still rhymes with booze. He's seen
His way to AA, up on the Finchley Road, but the tea aint
Got the sparkle of putting on a load. He dances in his head
My friend and he jives with the sun and after all the music
The poetry has begun.