When my Friend is in the Drink

Poetry

When my friend is in the drink, he sails the seven seas.
He hands me a bottle - “Come along!
For adventure awaits at the bottom of the cup
And the ladies be bonny and bright.”

My friend becomes Scottish when he’s had enough
And he longs for the pint and the tripe. 

When the drink is done, he sloshes ashore.
He rants and he rails, “Where have they gone?
For the ladies have powers and see my near end.
They’re all sibyls, sirens, and mutts.” 

My friend becomes Superstitious when his liquors run dry
And he shows his blush arse as he struts.

When my friend drinks anew, he walks the plank.
He pisses in corners or hedgerows, “Here we go!
Let’s start this quest anew and abrupt
There are ladies who long for my name.”

My friend, the Romantic, starts again.
And I follow him into the game.  

Photo by Chris F: https://www.pexels.com/photo/assorted-wine-bottles-1283219/