so my donkey died
and in my grief I lay it on the best table
and I drank and drank

and people who came to mourn
brought some hay
but some of them said, after two days
(and I was still drinking-mourning):
You can't just leave that lyin' on the table

That's not a lion, you idiot!
I retorted to each one of them
That's my donkey on the table!
And so I'd demonstrated my ability
to stay sober
and retain my ****-picuity
in spite of days of grief
and like me I am sure you too
cannot but marvel at people's inability
to distinguish between a lion and a donkey