It was coming Christmas time <br />The festive bells began to chime <br />We were having a pint, or nine <br />Everything was going fine <br />Until this so-called mate of mine <br />Said 'Do you want a drink? ' via the standard mime <br />I nodded, expecting a snifter sublime <br />Perchance a classic wine <br />From a historic, ancient vine <br />But then, the heartbreaking line <br />IT'S BAILEYS AND LIME! <br />On this fragrant beige slime <br />I was expected to dine <br />With molar and canine <br />I chewed into overtime <br />For the end I began to pine <br />I'd rather drink turpentine <br />Or something equally asinine <br />Give me a beverage benign <br />From this ridiculous pursuit I resign<br /><br />Esra Sloblock<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mr-congealneality/
