Once upon a midnight dreary, while I wandered, drunk and weary,
Over many a quaint and dimlit alley of forgotten doors—
While I plodded, barely standing, suddenly I heard a chanting,
As of someone softly ranting, ranting from the darkened doors.
“It’s some other drunk,” I muttered, “chanting from the darkened doors—
Only this and nothing more.”
Only vaguely I remember, for I’d been on quite a bender,
And each alleyway I entered left me lost more than before.
Wishing that the night weren’t over, vainly I had bought an Uber,
Then I walked away more sober—sober for my lost liqueur—
For the sweet and fervent ferment that the brewers name liqueur—
Shameless here forevermore.