Poem from Modern Drunkard Magazine:
Foolish Drunk
He’s a fool who loves the liquor,
It softens the skinflint at once,
It urges the slow to walk quicker,
Gives spirit and brains to the dunce.
The man who is dumb as a rule
Discovers a great deal to say,
While he who is bashful since Yule
Will talk in an amorous way.
It’s drink that fulfills the hollow boast
To give battle in France and in Spain,
Now here is the end of my toast—
And fill me that glass again!
—Turlough O’Carolan
Modern Drunkard Magazine apparently solicits poems. Strangely, I have very few if any poems about drink. In praise of nature, yes. Hmm...if they just wanted spam poems...
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