Drunk from many flagons swigged into me.
I fall down and I gotta piss, so go horizontally.
Dribble jack on pavement. Lunch set to come up:
There's frog, beans--string, lamb, veal, and snacks and oven ham I'd supped.
Blow. . .

Jump out many flagons swigged hastily.
A Frankfurt complements the mess; I'd repasted hoggishly.
Pumped out, many flagons swigged hastily.
They fall down like a watered mist and then land on Top's o' me

Shoe leather then was dappled from a bout of swillin' ale.
Nasty did they look now; smirched from pungent splash, a pail-
load; a spring within gut right out gen'rously came:
Pie and chips, gastronome swag, rum punch once set aflame. . .glowed.

Drunk, then manic gaggin'--big highball spree.
Now frothing are my noshing lips; I look rabid, honestly.
Dumplings and some dragées slip out of me;
They fall down in an awful spritz and smell rancid, honestly.

On flagons, lips forever, Buds naught, so Lillet joys.
Drain these things, quite bitter--stings; Marnier, by contrast, cloys.
Some Grey Goose I sampled; Jacques the waiter gave me more.
No chump, I tipped the garçon. . .increased his peerless pour.

My head bent back, tongue furrowed, stream swale. . .down the drain.
Drunk, then stronger grog I take--Kirschwasser, cherry bane.
Despite a bite to fend off this washed-down wave,
I chundered in the Dame 'n' sadly made slipp'ry the nave. Gross!

Nuns are mad and naggin'; fish fry from me
Had frothed up from my Gnostic lips. "Sacre bleu! C'est vendredi!"
Drummed me out of France 'n' shipped me 'cross sea.
Some Franglais lipped to buds on ship: "Let's get hammered, allons y!"