The Resolution

The Resolution

Don’t laugh but
Ridiculous as
It seems
Never in my wildest dreams
Kould I ever imagine
That I could give up
Alocoholic drink, but
It’s just got to be done.

Alocoholic drink now is it?

Not content with a smoking ban
Or ceasing to be a fan
of eating animals large or small
or hitting that pathetic ball
against a flat and faceless wall
you now tell me of this extra rub
I tell you, I have had it with you.
Although there have been good times that we’ve had.
More and more
I am thinking of Brad.

Brad?
You must be crazy.
Must be dim.
How could you contemplate
Living with him
I know you had a fine time on his cock,
moored as it was down in Camden Lock.
Although mine’s as limp as a buttered soldier,
I am sure that I have already told yer,
that Brad is now an ageing hippy.
Forty years old
and a little dippy.
Living in Bagkok, on the seedy side.
Pumped full of dope,
he has swallowed his pride.
And everything else too, or so I’ve heard.
Still if this is your final word.
Go

Oh no-wait
I can’t see this as the final bust
Although this looks set to fail
For the moment another resolution bites the dust.
I tell you what,
just for the moment, let’s not dig.
Pass that bottle,
I need a swig.