From: donlhumphries@bigpond.com   
      
   As I was sitting down to dine,   
   I sought to order bottled wine.   
   Having drunk potbelly beer,   
   A choice of rotted grape seemed clear;   
   To swill down alcohol somehow,   
   With dish of semi-raw cooked cow.   
   A vintage bottle, I did choose,   
   An ancient year on which to booze.   
   As dero wandered window past,   
   Gulping metho from a flask.   
   Together with my mates, of course,   
   I dined and laughed, till drunk and hoarse.   
   So enhanced our hobnail livers,   
   Sweat like pigs, and pissed like rivers.   
   Sake, whiskey, vodka too,   
   Whate'er by yeast cells born anew.   
   We drank like fish, and staggered home,   
   "Here's your good health", at cost of own.   
   When I did hit the sack, 'twas zonked,   
   Boozed up, blotto, soaked, and plonked.   
   ===================================   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)