Short Irish Whiskey Poems
Short Irish Whiskey Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Irish Whiskey by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Irish Whiskey by length and keyword.
I met this lady named Susan McGrew
who loved Irish whiskey through and through,
on St. Patty's Day she drank,
her mind went completely blank...
she now has tiny leprechauns -- two!
Drinking and Playing
Drinking and drinking Irish whiskey and red wine
They all thought they saw a spotted giraffe recline
Statistics say play
Oh ya, come what may
then they started playing with a fat porcupine.
Written: 4/14/15
Theresa Marie
I drink myself
into a bottle
of Irish Whiskey
and swim in
drunken ideas that
pass out and
wake up on my
page the next day
with a hangover.
“How did we get
here?!!” they ask.
I look down at
my page full of ideas.
They cross their arms,
I cross my arms,
they frown at me,
I frown at them,
“Who finished all the damn whiskey?!!”
I found myself
a good wee bottle
of 10 year old Irish whiskey
under my wee Irish down pillow
that must have been placed there
by the wee good leprechaun
tooth fairy
I could not bring myself
to hurt her wee feelings
so I opened it up
and drunk my wee Italian self
down to sleep
counting 40 pink plaid
wee Irish sheep
Me eyes growing tired...
From watching sad news
So I laid on me couch...
And I kicked off me shoes
Ate corned beef and cabbage...
With potatoes and carrots
Had two shots of Irish whiskey
After watching "News- Parrots"
Repeating the same stuff...
'Bout COV-19
So I turned off me TV...
And undressed me green
'Fore my eyes finally close...
Got me one thing to say
Whilst me eyes still awake...
"Happy St. Patrick's Day"
An old Irishman was on his deathbed
He was nearly at the end.
He had one final wish to be granted
so he motioned to Patty, his friend.
"Patty, I need one last favor".
"Just ask me", was Patty's reply.
"Find me bottle of the best Irish whiskey",
he said with a tear in his eye.
"When I'm gone, please pour it over me grave,
just in case I have me a thirst"!
Patty agreed, then sheepishly asked,
"Could I run it through me kidneys first"?
Cian careen into Quigley's Pub
for a little Irish whiskey and sub
before long dancing
an Irish jig romancing
the wee fawning lassies lap club
lassies hooting and flapping being bold
with blarney about his pot of gold
money he was countin
while lassies were mountin
full of craic, pole dancing, and few handholds
much Irish brew a sot Cian became
I'm takin my money you can't blame
when he got to his lair
pot did he held bare
shame he did claim but himself to blame
3/26/2017