The morning after didn’t go too bad:
I woke up slightly drunk, no hangover
At all, as usual, and also glad
At sleeping so long (through being unsober!).
With difficulty, I threw legs over
The side of the bed and, feet on the floor,
Unsteady, ready to head for soap or
Maybe the fridge, to find some juice to pour.
Those first refreshing gulps I so adore,
When dehydrated from the booze I’ve had;
Had mother known, well, it would have drove her
Quite mad; she doesn’t drink much (the old bore!).
If I say sorry for being a lad,
Then she won’t make me sleep on the sofa.
Fri 29 June 2007
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