Those Who Drink Bound To Sink

I met a man in pink, Who chose to freely think That those who often drink Are bound to sadly sink: “No braving it to a brink; With no sure shores a link!” But while just this saying Made with his glass a clink And for a day graying Did not quite snatch the wink I’d espied in his look But still stung then The Crook: The Detective in me My nose sure of odd Tea … “Heh! Together we sink For together we drink … Both of us in a boat You just in Liar’s Coat.