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I'll kick off with an old favourite from my high school days, what has been called the greatest drinking song ever written (and not even by me)
Broad Lick Nic
It's a broad lick nic,
And I'll tell you while I'm able that I'll smash your skull
If you're not drinking up Black Label
It's a hard man's drink and though the bottle's broken
Put your money on the table,
Strain the glass through your teeth
We grew up lean, mean, kings of the street scene
Without a mother's guiding hand to keep us clean
Down your rum, we'll take life as it comes
And all you blue rinse critics lick our literary bums
I drank my first pure malt before I was three
Smoked a pack of Dutch cigarettes my pappy left for me
And I romanced a little lass who was twelve years my elder
at he age of six I held her
That year I also bed her so before I was seven my first child was born
I told a pack of filthy lies as a politician
Heard my own confession as act of contrition
I spent ten years as a Trappist monk in a village in Tibet
And I walked up Everest naked just to win a bet
Well I cut off my leg to win a one legged race
And when I won I stitched it right back into place
I fought Mohammed Ali, I've seduced Mata Hari
I've even worn a sari when I impersonated Gandhi
And I dare any man here to call me a liar...... LIARS!!!
But I swear I've seen Ezikiel, I swear I've seen Isiah
Toasting marshmallows in Beelzebub's fire
And we're mad, MAD! Bad, BAD! Dangerous to know
We never gave a tinkers cuss about the seeds we'd sow
And we stay up late and never be forlorn
And when the morning comes around we'll kiss the crack of dawn
We took the whacks from Kerouac's and dusty Dostoyevsky's
And when all was said and done booze was all I had left me
For all the world's great thinkers are all a load of pus
And if you asked us how Zarathustra spoke
He spoke thus: Drink! Drink! Drink!
Drink until your drunk
Drink until you can't stand up
Til you're roly poly stunk
Til your bladder bursts til you throw a fit and curse
Til they lift you up still comatose and slamdance in the hearse
And we're good, GOOD! Bad, BAD! Ugly as sin
We mix our cough syrup with our gin
So take your medicine
I pray that when I die
There'll be someone else around to kiss my ass goodbye
Yes I pray, I pray, I pray that when I die
There'll be someone else around to kiss my ass goodbye |
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