The Pig

  It was an evening in November,
As I very well remember.
I was walking down the street in drunken pride,
And my knees were all a flutter,
So I landed in the gutter,
And a pig walked up and laid down at my side.
Yes, I lay there in the gutter,
Thinking thoughts I could not utter,
When a colleen passing by did softly say,
‘You can tell the man that boozes,
By the company he chooses…’
At that, the pig got up and walked away.

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