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04/12/2014

Champagne

And so, with her cigar she sat,
In nothing but a bowler hat,
And nothing in the Frigidaire,
But champagne, and cooler air.
They mocked her for her decadence
But did commend the excellence
Of the vintage that she chose
For it had quite a pungent nose
And such a palate, soft and light,
That's taste was pure and oh so bright.
And so you see, you should not care
What you do and what you wear
But on this advice you must think;
You will be judged by what you drink.
 


Footnote:
She caught a chill from being nude
Which doctors thought was rather rude
And so they wrote her up for rest
And to cover up her chest
But she died, alack! alas!
That bonnie, bowler-hatted lass.
It was her liver, so they say,
That finally gave up one day.
 
 

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