by John Whitworth

Jack Daniels straight is all it takes.
You drain the bottle, get the shakes
Till something slumbering awakes,
And then, by God, you see the snakes,
Not one or two but teeming lakes,
Which shows you can’t play ducks and drakes
With booze. It’s more than stomach aches.
Your brainpan quivers, quails and quakes
Exploding into bloody flakes
While storks and pelicans and crakes
And gurning devils chained to stakes
All armed with javelins and rakes
Stir up the writhing, slithering snakes
Like something hideous of Blake’s.
So cool it, son, and use the brakes,
Don’t replicate your dad’s mistakes.
Stick to sour milk and girdle-cakes
Fresh orange juice and tuna steaks,
You’ll see what healthy eating makes.
Can the Jack Daniels. Stuff the snakes.
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