Grow Up!

Long ago when I was young
I couldn’t tie my shoes.
That’s still the case through lack of food
And too much bargain booze.

The same is true, I say,
About my deepest sleep.
But unlike the baby in a cot,
I end up in a heap.

As a child starts to walk
He falters, trips and stumbles.
Wine has that effect on me,
Complete with dribbling mumbles.

No mum and dad to get me up,
To force me out the door.
My drunken stupor excuses work,
I’ll stay here on my floor.

Growing up, getting drunk,
Acting like a child.
But it’s not my youth, its demon drink,
That’s making me act wild.