NO MORE DOOM AND GLOOM: JOHNNY'S STORY

Written by: Carol Zic

People say my poetry is mostly doom and gloom
But I’m a funny person and I’ll prove it to you soon
My wit and sharp ripostes are a constant delight
Let’s see if I can tell this story to prove I’m right.

I had three friends who loved booze
And the only time they didn’t imbibe
Was when they had passed out
Or were taking an alcoholic snooze
Each died doing what they loved
Drinking, sipping and guzzling
Johnny was a straight-forward drunk
Mary took refined and dainty lady-like slips
And Tommy was an out-and-out guzzler
Here are their stories, one by one
Pull up a chair and sit, let’s get to it.

Johnny’s intake was prodigious
His drinking was almost religious
He had hollow legs and a hollow head
(That’s where all the booze ended up)
Johnny never drank from the bottle
He always used a glass, a mug or a cup
One Saturday Johnny was drinking
Gin martinis (not vodka) (two olives)
It was his one and only preference
Although when he was falling-down drunk
I don’t think he knew the difference
He was downing martinis like they were water
When Fate stepped in, picked her mark
And like that, Johnny was a goner
The culprit was Johnny’s second olive
The first went down without a hitch
The second, however, was unpitted
Causing a fatal glitch
It was a down-right shame and disaster
Poor Johnny’s demise could not have been faster.

EPILOGUE:

Though your legs and head may be hollow
Take care when you swallow
Stray olives can lead to the pits