A Beer song

Statutory warning: Drinking they say is injurious to "Your" health (not mine) People in their right senses not to read this poem.

Hic-a-one, hic-a-two, hic-a-three

no, hic-a-four, no

and

stop, stop, stop

I feel ticklish

there’s a belly in my fire

and, I dance

tap-a-tap-a-tap-a-tap

and, I laugh

bu-aha-aha-ha-ha-oha-ha

and, there’s a belly in my fire

I plead to the girl

in the polka dotted dress,

to help me

arrange these words?

How do I fit my belly, in my fire?

she smiles
she swirls her polka frock, walks, says, I am tipsy

And, there’s my belly

And, the fire

I am jumbled

where do I fit my belly, in my fire?

Ah-Whistles-whistles-whistles-ah

I hear a bear in the beer

And, the beer says,

hic-a-hic

Hic-a-hic,

hic, hic, hic

And, a chic…chick

Oops, i'll come back tomorrow

to do the lines
As of now, i am just
hic-a-hic

Copyright @ Ajay Pai  4th April 2017

Image courtesy - AJ's personal collection

poem