THE DRUNK POEM

Starkle, starkle, little twink,
Who the hell are you I think?
I'm not under what you call
The alcofluence of incohol.
I'm just a little slort of sheep,
I'm not drunk like thinkle peep.
I don't know who is me yet,
But the drunker I stand here,
The longer I get.
S, just give me one more fink to drill my cup
'Cause I got all day sober to Sunday up.

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