This is the story of Drunk Bobby Todd,
Whose last name is oft used as a first,
With each sip of hooch he feels more like God,
Yet nothing fully quenches his thirst.
Not whiskey in cola nor sour with rocks,
There’s no limit to his lust for booze,
Each time opportunity stands firmly and knocks,
He stays bed bound and continues to snooze.
Pain and Suffering have both brought him here,
To a life without hope of reprieve,
Never able to put down a frosty cold beer,
Never willing to let himself believe.
Whether scotch or rum, they all taste the best,
Better than bitterness of memories old,
He drinks to an ending, the Ultimate Rest,
Since he knows he will never be bold.