Once Around The Abbaye
Apast I sing, me liver,
I hath made, twice, thee quiver,
My apologies,
For the rounds of threes,
For 'twere'nt no mere sliver.
An' a tip to me cabbaye,
Who'd made it home quite crabbaye,
When out his bed,
I grabb'd instead,
For a trip 'round th' abbaye.
Yet 'twere far sadder,
For th' backseat and me bladder,
A yellow line,
'Twer'nt too fine,
Yet 'e could've been far madder.
Bless thee, sir, and ye chillen',
For me guts tha' I be spillin',
If'n there be saints,
For cushions I'd hav' taint,
My apologies for what be illin'.
Invino Veritas
12/6/13
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