_Your Honour

Your Honour, please, the drunkard said
Put me in jail. Give me a warm bed
I’ll be safer in there, I know I’ll be fed
If you set me loose, I’ll be back on the red

You see, Your Worship, I'm just an old sot
Was successful once, now I’ve lost the plot
They say I can stop, but I kid you not
Rum, beer, Metho, wine - I’ll drink the lot.

I once had a family, Your Excellency,
Wife and two kids; they filled me with glee
Late one night drink got the better of me
Lost control on the turn, put the car into a tree.

I'm lost, Your Lordship, the drunkard said
Sometimes things just get in me head
Wild fancy visions, some fill me with dread
I love ’em. I hate ’em. I’ll drink myself dead.

Please, Your Highness, lock me up long
My courage is weak, my illness strong
Lungs, liver are shot from too many drinks and bongs
Need to keep dry, ’til my spirit becomes strong.

The beak sat up straight, adjusted his hair
Heaved a deep sigh, gave the bloke a good stare
Now listen here, mate, I really do care
But it wouldn’t be right to put you in there

You’re down on your luck, that’s no disgrace
I'm sure you’ll bounce back, given some help and some space
I’ll talk to the Sallies, they’ll find you a place
Take your time, sober up, put on a new face.

Your Worshipful Honour, you’re really true blue
Helpin’ a bloke with no hope, not even no shoes
Tomorra’s a new day but I’ll do you true.
You wouldn’t have a nip, would ya – just to see me through!

eoinmacdhugail © Oct 2008