Poem of the Week, Vol.#46

(An old Chestnut. Reminds me of the time I spent in New Orleans)

The Irish Pig

'Twas an evening in November,

As I very well remember,

I was strolling down the street in drunken pride,

But my knees were all aflutter,

So I landed in the gutter,

And a pig came up and lay down by my side.

Yes I lay there in the gutter

Thinking thoughts I could not utter,

When a colleen passing by did softly say,

"Ye can tell a man that boozes

By the company he chooses"

-At that the pig got up and walked away.

-Anonymous (a famous Irish author)