I sold "corn" from a wagon, that traveled where drunks go,
My clients, like me, were a clique of crocked sots, so. . . .
Potted, we'd booze whatever we could.
Leechin' on a bottle
Of good grain alcohol or that from wood.

"Tipsy," "tanked," "three sheets
To the wind," "drunk," "inebriated," "souse,"
They called us "dipsos," "smashed," "weak-kneed,"
"Crapulous," "tight," "blotto"; but each henpecked spouse
Can't take drinks in his house.

Lips on carboy;* mouth primed for mo' weal.
It's dinner time--fill me with a shots meal.
I quaffed 16 beers, then plenty drunk--
Rolled to room where men piss
And plopped those processed shots
In the sad sink, where they sunk.

"Shitfaced," "tanked," "on spree,"
"Out of it," "bombed," "intoxicated," "ploughed,"
They called us "lit," "steamed," "trashed," "alchie,"
"Pickled," "pie-eyed," "potted," "rummy," "sot," "boozehound."
We're laying on the ground.

High, every day droolin' at shots from the well;
Swig Comfort, Southern--vile!
Three sheets, wasted, and I'm seein' double
And I haven't peed in a long while, uh oh!
In pants I pee; wet, yet I smile.

I was borne in a wagon with a "paddy" logo;
I's tryin' in the back seat to stanch the log, so. . .
Gambled that in my state I could
Breach my cheeks for gas 'xpel,
But I lost; the cop trilled, "That don't smell good!"

Drippy, rank release
Breached turd was leached and started leakin', brown.
Appalling, sticky, stank, can't cease,
Unebbing shite got me drenched, dreck runnin' down
And made a lumpy mound.



*a glass or plastic vessel used in fermenting beverages such as wine, mead, and beer