Just a little sip of the nasty stuff.
But 1oz. was just enough
To make a drunk of a teenage boy,
And to make a mother lose her joy.
She could here him outside the door,
Many nights groveling,
And groaning on the floor.
O the messes that were left behind,
By her son that became the drunkard kind.
After work to the tavern he would go;
All his pay cheque he would surely blow.
His drunkenness led him in with the wrong kind;
He began taking drugs, and messed up his mind.
His mother pleaded with him each day;
To repent of his sins and turn to God's way.
Her drunken son ignored his mother's voice;
Telling her, "Mom, I will make my own choice."
"Don't worry Mom, I have lots of time;
I'm not done till I spend my last dime."
Late one night, the telephone rang;
Her drunkard son had been out with the gang.
Speeding down the road they lost control;
Killing a pedestrian out for a stroll.
His broken hearted mother wept and listened some more.
The policeman reported, "It was liquor bought from the store."
He continued to say, "Come down to the jail,
For your son has been locked up in a cell."
Oh, how she wished that his father was here,
To care for the son she held so dear.
What would it take to wake up her son?
He would have to pay big for what he had done.
"O Mom, Please tell them, her son cried;
Tell them it wasn't my fault", he lied.
"I cannot help you my son", was her reply.
"You caused an innocent soul, this night to die.
For this life you continue to choose,
What a tragic has come out of your bottle of booze.
As you sit here and pay your price in jail;
May you think of what life would be like in hell.
I love you son, but you have a lesson to learn",
Was the words from his mother he had earned.
1 oz. of booze is all it takes;
The horrible tragedies it all makes.
Why is it that a man thinks he has to survive,
By selling the potion that takes innocent lives?