Archie's Press Spirits
Drinks in the air, spirits are high.
Laughing out loud, the whiskey is rye.
The clock rolls on, the jokes gain a slur,
The bottle, it drains,
the vision, it blurs.
The night almost up, steps hard to find,
price of the tab, worth the good time.
Heading for home, thru one eye, I see,
that good friends are rare, and it only cost me:
breaking my diet,
stain on the shirt,
the scuffs on the shoes,
leaving my car on the other side of town,
wait, where did I park?
the parking ticket,
left my credit card at the bar,
the slightly embarrassing walk back in the bar,
the included additional gratuity...
Feeling quite low, head in a fog,
Only one cure, hair of the dog.
Paper Stock 8" x 8"