BEWARE OF AN IRISH LOVER
To cheer up my Irish lover,
I offered a night of booze and laughter,
which the bottle sucker approved without dispute.
True to my solemn word,
I booked our adventure in the Russian Tea Room.
A reckless move, too fancy for a poor spender like me.
My Irish flower, aroused by caviar and red ambiance,
tippled three double-gins at the speed of an eye wink.
My wallet had seen better days after I honored the bill.
To keep our romance alive, we took a limo ride
through Manhattan's traffic lights.
Tickled by the limo’s stocked up bar, my thirsty date,
Wasted no time to recycle its contents into a shikker waste.
My nerves stretched to the limit whenever the smart chauffeur
smiled at the mirror. I could see the bankruptcy smiling at me.
Dempsey’s Pub is an Irish tavern where the Irish drink
till double they see. I took her word and joined the roaring crowd
Alas, she was too merry to count the rounds.
I felt drowsy and worn out, a junior Boy Scout among jubilant ex-patriots.
Tavern on the Green is a class shrine amid all-year sparkling trees.
The price is right, if you're Getty or Rothschild.
Kindled by the gleaming bottles, meticulously lined to shine on her face,
she toasted three to life and drummed four rums for the road.
I snapped one schnapps to redeem my shattered dreams.
Dead drunk, my cheerful gal, at last,
kept mumbling the same old schmaltz,
"The best things in life are free."
Are you telling me?!
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