9

                                          THE CHOICE

Gus, service please, get me a German stout

And listen to me while I lay my problem out:

My love affair is on the rocks, Barbie and I had a spout.

Barbie quarreled about Labatts, we fought about Bud lite;

She says the brew makes of me such an ungodly sight

Please pour the beer in a frosted mug let me consider awhile;

Barbies voluptuous alluring figure, and her sweat comely smile.

Sure neighbors and relatives they think her ever so fine,

And my debauched lifestyle well, they'll sorely malign.

My parents and relatives they think that shes the perfect lass,

But the fairest of cheeks must wrinkle, and the truest of loves must pass.

This is no light decision, nor one from which I'll bail;

So open nother cold bottle please, please make this one an ale.

She'll make a loyal wife₁ and bare a flock of kids,

But neither she nor them will earn a blumming quid.

My house, be full of noisy  and cluttered with their toys,

But Im a grown man, and kids bring me no joys.

Instead of a fine new car, and staying at a swank resort,

Well stay at my parents cabin and sleep on a davenport.

To paying for their food, and buy them fine clothes,

I'll need to work long hours, a thing I surely loathe.

My sweet Barbie wants me to bear her yoke,

Yet beers are cheap, and family will keep me broke.

My God, that went so quick, there's nothing but the suds;

Yes, fill it up my empty jug, your tap still has some Bud.

The love of sweet loyal woman is truly a special thing;

Ill toil all day, shell get my pay, and treat me like a king.

The creating of life. . . the  rearing of kids is our blessed task;

So me Barb requires of me that I give up the liquor flask.

Gus pour me nother cerveca, make it Corona Dark;

Barbie will have no rivals, she thinks Im an easy mark.

If now I give up drink, . . my life will be so stark.

No days blatto in this ole tavern, I'll be off with the kids in the park.

Sadly Allen, David, and Bill will drink a toast to me;

Hells bells, such times he'll neer more see.

Now that Im at the bottom, a Canadian larger please.

I can hear her say, the damn drinking, it's a social disease.

Barb says this brew will rule my mind, and turn me into a rake;

So she demands sobriety, or no vows with me shell take.

A mans word, his mark, and my vows I keep,

So which ever I choose, I'll make my heart weep.

Now let me ponder a while on which shall me beguile:

To drink till I stink, or change my lifestyle?

The aroma, its color, and whiteness of head,

Or wed a wife and have children instead?

Shall the candle be burnt at both ends, the flame will be ever so bright,

Or will my ways mend to do what's Christian, proper, and right.

I feel like Im caught by the tail, to be flayed for sale;

So open one more bottle, Gus, make this an ice-cold ale.

In time the kids grow up . . . my wife be old and gray;

But the joys of sporting life will be had till on the deathbed I lay.

The kids and wife are a task, the house will be my vault,

But the joys of the drinking life, for sure will my soul exult.

Pour me another beer, hey Gust the case is almost dead,

And though my head does spin, everything has been said.

Hey Gus, get another case, get the frosted mugs;

Hey guys, lets give the suds a tug.

Now answer me true, which is the better portion, bondage bought with a ring, Or out with you guys carousing till dawn on a drunken fling???