Dram-Shop Ditty
I drink my fill of foamy ale
I sing a song, I tell a tale,
I play the fiddle;
My throat is chronically dry,
Yet savant of a sort am I,
And Life's my riddle.
For look! I raise my arm to drink-
A voluntary act, you think
(Nay, Sir, you're grinning)>
You're wrong: this stein of beer I've drained
to emptiness was pre-ordained
Since Time's beginning.
But stay! 'Tis I who err, because
Time has no birth; it always was,
It will be ever;
And trivial though my act appears,
Its repercussion down the years
Will perish never.
It will condition ages hence,
but its most urgent consequence,
You'll not deny, Sir,
Is that it should be filled again
To goad my philosophic brain,
If you will buy, Sir.
There is no great, there is no small;
Fate makes a tapestry of all,
each stitch is needed . . .
The gods be praised! that barman chap
Manipulates his frothing tap -
My plea is heeded.
Two foaming tankards over-spill,
And soon, ah! not too soon, they will
Our thirst be slaking.
Stout lad! he does not dream that he
A page of history maybe
Is blandly making.
For Sir, it was ordained that you
Buy me a drink (or maybe two)
Since ages hoary;
And doubtless it is predestined
our meeting shall affect in kind
Earth's Cosmic Story.
The fathomless, eternal Past,
The Future infinitely vast,
We two are linking;
So let us fitly celebrate
This moment of immortal Fate
In drinking, drinking.
But though I toss a hearty pot,
Kind stranger, do not think I'm not
For Truth a groper . . .
Another? Thanks, I won't refuse,
I am a tippler, if you choose,
But not a toper.
A nice distinction! . . . Well, life's good;
Just give me beer, rich greasy food,
And let me fiddle;
Enough of dull philosophy;
To-night we'll merry, merry be . . .
Hi-diddle-diddle.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Dum Dum Diddle
I can hear how you work, practising hard
Playing night and day, woah-oh
And it sounds better now
Yes, you improve every time you play, woah-oh
But its bad
Youre so sad
And youre only smiling
When you play your violin
Dum-dum-diddle, to be your fiddle
To be so near you and not just hear you
Dum-dum-diddle, to be your fiddle
I think then maybe youd see me, baby
Youd be mine
And wed be together all the time
Wish I was, dum-dum-diddle, your darling fiddle
But I think you dont know that I exist
Im the quiet kind, woah-oh
From the day when I first listened to you
Youve been on my mind, woah-oh
You dont care
Its not fair
And youre only smiling
When you play your violin
Dum-dum-diddle, to be your fiddle
To be so near you and not just hear you
Dum-dum-diddle, to be your fiddle
I think then maybe youd see me, baby
Youd be mine
And wed be together all the time
Dum-dum-diddle, to be your fiddle
To be so near you and not just hear you
Dum-dum-diddle, to be your fiddle
I think then maybe youd see me, baby
Youd be mine
And wed be together all the time
Wish I was, dum-dum-diddle, your darling fiddle
song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Man In The Middle
Did you see that man in the limousine
With a pretty blond, he is fifty and the girls only seventeen
But she doesnt care, and she never will
If hes ninety-five she dont give a damn
Just as long as he pays the bill
Did you see that man with a fat cigar
He just left his lunch with a belly full of lobster and caviar
He can choose the wine from a vintage year
He can drink champagne in his limousine
While the rest of us drink a beer
cause hes the man in the middle, never second fiddle
Just like a spider in a cobweb
Hard as a hammer, not the kind of boss you double-cross
cause hes the man in the middle, knows the way to diddle
Hes never bothered by his conscience
Deals with the devil, cause he wants to be
Man in the middle, the middle, the middle
In the middle (in the middle, in the middle...)
But you see that man made a big mistake
Even though hes got all his servants and a mansion beside a lake
And the money too, all that he can spend
He can buy the most, nearly anything
But he cant buy an honest friend
cause hes the man in the middle, never second fiddle
Just like a spider in a cobweb
Hard as a hammer, not the kind of boss you double-cross
cause hes the man in the middle, knows the way to diddle
Hes never bothered by his conscience
Deals with the devil, cause he wants to be
Man in the middle, the middle, the middle
In the middle (in the middle, in the middle...)
song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Corn-Stalk Fiddle
WHEN the corn's all cut and the bright stalks shine
Like the burnished spears of a field of gold;
When the field-mice rich on the nubbins dine,
And the frost comes white and the wind blows cold;
Then it's heigh-ho! fellows and hi-diddle-diddle,
For the time is ripe for the corn-stalk fiddle.
And when you take a stalk that is straight and long,
With an expert eye to its worthy points,
And you think of the bubbling strains of song
That are bound between its pithy joints —
Then you cut out strings, with a bridge in the middle,
With a corn-stalk bow for a corn-stalk fiddle.
Then the strains that grow as you draw the bow
O'er the yielding strings with a practiced hand!
And the music's flow never loud but low
Is the concert note of a fairy band.
Oh, your dainty songs are a misty riddle
To the simple sweets of a corn-stalk fiddle.
When the eve comes on, and our work is done,
And the sun drops down with a tender glance,
With their hearts all prime for the harmless fun,
Come the neighbor girls for the evening's dance,
And they wait for the well-known twist and twiddle —
More time than tune — from the corn-stalk fiddle.
Then brother Jabez takes the bow,
While Ned stands off with Susan Bland,
Then Henry stops by Milly Snow,
And John takes Nellie Jones's hand,
While I pair off with Mandy Biddle,
And scrape, scrape, scrape goes the corn-stalk fiddle.
'Salute your partners,' comes the call,
'All join hands and circle round,'
'Grand train back,' and 'Balance all,'
Footsteps lightly spurn the ground.
'Take your lady and balance down the middle'
To the merry strains of the corn-stalk fiddle.
So the night goes on and the dance is o'er,
And the merry girls are homeward gone,
But I see it all in my sleep once more,
And I dream till the very break of dawn
Of an impish dance on a red-hot griddle
To the screech and scrape of a corn-stalk fiddle.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I never had one beer. If I bought a six-pack of beer, I kept drinking till all six beers were gone. You have to have that kind of understanding about yourself. I haven't had a drink now in 12 years.
quote by Samuel L. Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Older Than You
We are younger in years! Yes, that is true;
But in some things we are older than you.
For instance, you sometimes say with a smile,
'It will do to drink wine once in a while.'
We say, 'It will not do at all!'
Wine is an imp of old Alcohol.
So are gin and beer, and cider, too.
If you drink up them, they will eat up you.
'Cider is not a strong drink,' you say.
Ah! but, my friend, it opens the way
For brandy and whiskey to follow fast.
It has done it many a time in the past.
It tempts and teases the appetite.
Let it alone, boys, keep to the right;
Onward and upward we mean to go.
Heaven is reached that way, you know.
People who drink are behind the time.
They are back with darkness, and woe, and crime.
This age is progressive. You people who drink,
Though ever so little, just pause and think-
Think of the anguish that liquor makes;
Think of the hearts that it burdens and breaks.
Let it alone: stop drinking to-day-
This is what we, the children, say.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Anacreontics, Drinking
THE thirsty earth soaks up the rain,
And drinks and gapes for drink again;
The plants suck in the earth, and are
With constant drinking fresh and fair;
The sea itself (which one would think
Should have but little need of drink)
Drinks twice ten thousand rivers up,
So fill'd that they o'erflow the cup.
The busy Sun (and one would guess
By 's drunken fiery face no less)
Drinks up the sea, and when he 's done,
The Moon and Stars drink up the Sun:
They drink and dance by their own light,
They drink and revel all the night:
Nothing in Nature 's sober found,
But an eternal health goes round.
Fill up the bowl, then, fill it high,
Fill all the glasses there--for why
Should every creature drink but I?
Why, man of morals, tell me why?
poem by Abraham Cowley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What's The Use Of Getting Sober
Dv = deep voice, sv = squeaky voice
Dv: boy, you listen to your old pappy
Sv: yeah, pappy
Dv: and stop drinking so much
Sv: i'm-i'm ain't been doing so much drinking, pappy
Dv: shut up, boy! you drink all day and you drink all night and you know, son, that that ain't right
Sv: oh pappy, you just give me a chance. i, i can, i . . .
Dv: shut up, boy! boy, you're lookin' thin as a twig
Sv: i know that . . .
Dv: look likes your dear old pappy - about to blow your wig
Sv: oh i'm gonna blow my wig, pappy
What's the use of getting sober
When you're gonna get drunk again
Oh sam done something fine
When he bought that good whiskey, beer and wine
I love my whiskey and i love my gin
Every time you see me i'm in my sin
So what's the use of getting sober
When you're gonna get drunk again
Dv:
I went out last night about half past one
Thought i'd whoop it up a little and have some fun
I got me a half pint about half past two
Mmm, mmm, the way i was feeling you know what i wanna do
Got me a pint about half past four
Felt so good, went out and got me some more
Got me a quart about half past five
Boy, that was so nice didn't know if i was dead or alive
So what's the use of getting sober if you're gonna get drunk again
Oh sam done something fine
When he bought that good whiskey, beer and wine
I love my whiskey and i love my gin
Every time you see me i'm in my sin
So what's the use of getting sober
When you're gonna get drunk again
Well i've been thinking
But i keep drinking
I guess i'm 'bout lose my mind
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
What's The Use Of Getting Sober (When You're Gonna Get Drunk Again)
(words and music by Bubsy Meyers)
[DV = dark voice, SV = squeaky voice]
DV: Boy, you listen to your old Pappy
SV: Yeah, Pappy
DV: And stop drinking so much
SV: I'm-I'm ain't been doing so much drinking, Pappy
DV: Shut up, boy! You drink all day
and you drink all night
and you know, son, that that ain't right
SV: Oh Pappy, you just give me a chance. I, I can, I...
DV: Shut up, boy!
Boy, you're lookin' thin as a twig
SV: I know that...
DV: Look likes your dear old Pappy - about to blow your wig
SV: Oh I'm gonna blow my wig, Pappy
What's the use of getting sober
When you're gonna get drunk again
Oh Sam done something fine
When he bought that good whiskey, beer and wine
I love my whiskey and I love my gin
Every time you see me I'm in my sin
So what's the use of getting sober
When you're gonna get drunk again
DV: I went out last night about half past one
Thought I'd whoop it up a little and have some fun
I got me a half pint about half past two
Mmm, mmm, the way I was feeling you know what I wanna do
Got me a pint about half past four
Felt so good, went out and got me some more
Got me a quart about half past five
Boy, that was so nice didn't know if I was dead or alive
So what's the use of getting sober
If you're gonna get drunk again
Oh Sam done something fine
When he bought that good whiskey, beer and wine
I love my whiskey and I love my gin
Every time you see me I'm in my sin
So what's the use of getting sober
When you're gonna get drunk again
Well I've been thinking
But I keep drinking
I guess I'm 'bout lose my mind
(C) Leeds Music Ltd.
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Beginning...
we try to link drinking coconut wine
with merry making
specifically, alcohol has a way of
numbing sorrow and making happiness
sprout like mongo seeds from
the sack cloth wet with water
it will be cold but the warmth in our
smiles shall start the fire
what next can we do when sorrow
leaves us?
just say it, perhaps i may oblige
for like you i am in deep mourning for i
have lost a part of me
many years ago, sort of saying, sentimentally
that i am incomplete and hopefully
after this drink and another drink
you may see that i am so empty and needs
to be filled again
do not kiss me yet, my mouth is full.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Clepsydra
WHY, let is run! who bids it stay?
Let us the while be merry;
Time there in water creeps away,
With us it posts in sherry.
Time not employ'd's empty sound,
Nor did kind Heaven lend it,
But that the glass should quick go round,
And men in pleasure spend it.
Then set thy foot, brave boy, to mine,
Ply quick to cure our thinking;
An hour-glass in an hour of wine
Would be but lazy drinking.
The man that snores the hour-glass out
Is truly a time-waster,
But we, who troll this glass about,
Make him to post it faster.
Yet though he flies so fast, some think,
'Tis well known to the sages,
He'll not refuse to stay and drink,
And yet perform his stages.
Time waits us whilst we crown the hearth,
And dotes on ruby faces,
And knows that this carrier of mirth
Will help to mend our paces:
He stays with him that loves good time,
And never does refuse it,
And only runs away from him
That knows not how to use it.
He only steals by without noise
From those in grief that waste it,
But lives with the mad roaring boys
That husband it, and taste it.
The moralist perhaps may prate
Of virtue from his reading,
'Tis all but stale and foisted chat
To men of better breeding.
Time, to define it, is the space
That men enjoy their being;
'Tis not the hour, but drinking glass,
Makes time and life agreeing.
He wisely does oblige his fate
Does cheerfully obey it,
And is of fops the greatest that
By temp'rance thinks to stay it.
Come, ply the glass then quick about,
To titillate the gullet,
Sobriety's no charm, I doubt,
Against a cannon-bullet.
poem by Charles Cotton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Beer Bong
If I want some beer
I don't want to hear
About how I missed the show
Because I drink to slow
So pass me the beer bong
It wont take very long
For me to put down
This torpedo to the ground
Because drinking beer is to slow
Beer bong is the way to go
To go to go
Don't drink to slow!
song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Croaking Toad And The Leopard Frog
The croaking toad and the leopard frog,
Were drinking beer on a hollow log.
And the croaking toad said, you're my best bud,
Man you can really hold your suds.
And the leopard frog replied in kind,
Another friend like you, I couldn't find.
You're my best friend when skies are grey,
You're by my side come what may.
I'd rather drink my beer with you,
Than catch blue bottles the whole day through.
Let's drink one more to the breaking dawn,
While we listen quietly to the crickets song.
But the croaking toad said I must go,
I'm very sleepy and the cock just crowed.
I'll see you tonight for a cold one or two,
I really love this black swamp brew.
And the leopard frog said I'll be here,
With my styrofoam ice chest sitting near.
Just bring some peanuts when you come round,
With beer they taste so good going down.
6/8/11 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Beer Song
If I want some beer I dont want to hear about how I missed the show
Because I drink to slow so pass me the beer bong it wont take very long
For me to put down this torpedo to the ground because drinking beer is too
Slow beer bong is the way to go to go to go dont drink too slow !
song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
High Diddle Diddle
High diddle, diddle,
The cat and the fiddle,
The cow jump'd over the moon;
The little dog laugh'd
To see such craft,
And the dish ran away with the spoon.
poem by Anonymous English
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hey diddle diddle
Hey diddle diddle
We're all on the fiddle
And never get up until noon.
We only take cash
Which we carefully stash
And we work by the light of the moon.
poem by Roald Dahl
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To See Life As A Riddle
Life,
Is what we make it.
But some will sit,
To see life as a riddle.
And life...
Some choose to fake it.
With a doing that's believed,
They can be freed of mistakes.
Yet life,
Is what we make it.
But some will sit,
To see life as a riddle.
Some people have a need,
To play life second fiddle.
Out of tune,
And afraid of taking risks.
Some people live,
Afraid of taking chances...
With dismissing most of it!
Yet life,
Is what we make it.
But some will sit,
As if it is a riddle.
Life,
Is what we make it.
Yet some will sit,
Just to play it second fiddle.
And some will see life,
With no middle but a riddle.
Yes some will sit,
Just to play life second fiddle.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Today... 'The Alpha and Omega
The Alpha and Omega is Your great name.
The Beginning and the End, forever the same.
There before the dawning of life upon the earth.
At the end You will also be, at creations new birth.
Written in this book of Revelation for all to see
is a message to the churches telling of what will be.
The Water of life is given that will surely satisfy
for all who thirst and come will never be passed by.
We hear these words from the First and the Last
as time concludes and history fades into the past.
'It is done, behold all things are now made new, '
as the new heaven and earth burst into view.
At the commencement of that great Eternal Day
when the ages of earth have ended and passed away.
Then the One who is the Beginning and the End
will be this poor persons Saviour and Eternal Friend.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
Disregarding One's Gift of Life
We all have made those decisions,
To live the kind of life we like.
Some have chosen to fulfill their dreams with things!
Others choose to discover life.
Seeking truth.
And what for them true happiness means.
And still there are others who prey,
For all the wrong reasons.
Leeching to please urgent needs.
And completely satisfied...
To play with life all day.
And make commitments,
To waste time at night.
We all have made those decisions,
To live the kind of life we like.
And yet there are those who despise themselves...
With needs to start arguments.
For them conflicts they wish to incite.
To peak their interests by starting fights.
And disregarding one's gift of life...
As something they've been ordained to take away.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Der mann im keller
How cool and fair this cellar where
My throne a dusky cask is;
To do no thing but just to sing
And drown the time my task is.
The cooper he's
Resolved to please,
And, answering to my winking,
He fills me up
Cup after cup
For drinking, drinking, drinking.
Begrudge me not
This cosy spot
In which I am reclining--
Why, who would burst
With envious thirst,
When he can live by wining.
A roseate hue seems to imbue
The world on which I'm blinking;
My fellow-men--I love them when
I'm drinking, drinking, drinking.
And yet I think, the more I drink,
It's more and more I pine for--
Oh, such as I (forever dry)
God made this land of Rhine for;
And there is bliss
In knowing this,
As to the floor I'm sinking:
I've wronged no man
And never can
While drinking, drinking, drinking.
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Strong Beer
“What do you think
The bravest drink
Under the sky?”
“Strong beer,” said I.
“There’s a place for everything,
Everything, anything,
There’s a place for everything
Where it ought to be:
For a chicken, the hen’s wing;
For poison, the bee’s sting;
For almond-blossom, Spring;
A beerhouse for me.”
“There’s a prize for every one
Every one, any one,
There’s a prize for every one,
Whoever he may be:
Crags for the mountaineer,
Flags for the Fusilier,
For English poets, beer!
Strong beer for me!”
“Tell us, now, how and when
We may find the bravest men?”
“A sure test, an easy test:
Those that drink beer are the best,
Brown beer strongly brewed,
English drink and English food.”
Oh, never choose as Gideon chose
By the cold well, but rather those
Who look on beer when it is brown,
Smack their lips and gulp it down.
Leave the lads who tamely drink
With Gideon by the water brink,
But search the benches of the Plough,
The Tun, the Sun, the Spotted Cow,
For jolly rascal lads who pray,
Pewter in hand, at close of day,
“Teach me to live that I may fear
The grave as little as my beer.”
poem by Robert Graves
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!