Everybody's goin' out and gettin' drunk;
They suck down fuel from grain, and Rhône, beer--smells like skunk
That's canned; that odor does nothing for me.
Oh, eau de vie!

This brandy picks me up when I am feelin' down.
I toast you folks, and when I'm done--another round.
I get blind drunk; pink pachyderms I see.
Whoa, eau de vie!
I set my bladder free and dispense ample pee.

I'm burpin' with the boys; we raise our arms,
Then prate a great big "Prost!" The noise bothers our host,
Who ripostes, "Were you dolts raised on a farm?!"

And then my brunch of luscious lunch meat--moan!--I lose
Ghastly repast blasts past buccal gash. . .soils host's shoes.
He socks me on the chin, pugnaciously.
Oh, woe is me!

Pals, a palliative for me:
Mo' eau de vie!