Rory

Written by: Owen Yeates

I would like to tell you the story
Of a drunken man named Rory
Who liked his pint of ale
Every day with-out fail
In the morning he looked rather gory

He would make his way to the pub
Where he would have a drink and some grub
Then go merrily on his way
Drunk as a skunk they would say
Home to bathe in a tin tub

He would walk the several miles home
Down the country lanes he would roam
Weeing were all could see
Singing the rose of Tralee
While carrying a garden gnome

One night he spotted a man
He spoke to and asked if he can
Give him a light 
No reply so a fight
But it was a tree he battered then ran

Waking in the morning hands sore
Found bandaged fingers all four
He decided that day
No more drink he did say
And he never drank a drop more