Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
I anesthetized myself with fifteen pints of Olde English, **** good health I'm going down. But coming round when the pounding in my head reminds me that I can't be dead is a drawback. Yet Olde English sounds so quaint, believe me folks and yokels it ain't, the locals where I live give free stretchers for the wretches just like me.
0
Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 5:50 PM UTC
Fools and fancies
I anesthetized myself with fifteen pints of Olde English, **** good health I'm going down. But coming round when the pounding in my head reminds me that I can't be dead is a drawback. Yet Olde English sounds so quaint, believe me folks and yokels it ain't, the locals where I live give free stretchers for the wretches just like me.
john-edward-smallshaw
Written by
Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 5:50 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem