Days of Wine and Noses

Yes, a big old red drinker's nose, Shines upon your shabby clothes, No time to look more neat, Just take an open seat, Raise your goblet to your lips, Well, at least wine does not go to your hips, So "chill out"!" and have more sips, Before the next rehab staff has fits And your life essence begins it's slips, And sober sanity's short time clips, Of this world, it loses it's grips, And your heart does flips, When the last drop calls it quits, As into your near empty glass drips, The only solice you know trips, The peaceful feeling of a sailing ship's Plowing through it's ocean strips. So bottom's up, And bottom's down, One day you'll wear, The sickman's frown.