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.
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