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.