Mix a concoction of spirits,
Throw back a beaker or two.
Discard the ruinous ice bits,
They’ll send you straight to the loo.
Pawn off a tipple to Granny,
She’s off to a sonorous nap.
Old Pop prefers old sherry,
So sugar it till it’s a sweet sap.
Keep some in the fridge for the morrow,
Comes in handy for polishing shoes.
With the rest it is best to drown your sorrow,
And be happy you’ve run out of booze.