Belly Full Of Whiskey                                                                               By David Michael Jackson More from David Had a belly full of whiskey                                     Had a head full of gin I couldn't say where I was coming from Couldn't say where I'd been I tell you this for certain you can call me sublime Ain't no heaven in a bottle. It'll get you  every time. Now you say your baby left you and there's hell for you to pay And your landlord he comes calling in the heat of the day And the night it goes a runnung like a hot rod Ford And your car it's a sittin' on  I    -   Twenty Four                                     Well I've had some hard times and you've had some too and we'll buckle up our seatbelts and quit smoking too. So pickup your guitar and your blue sweade shoes When the truckers (or towtruck?) are rolling down I twenty four We'll be picking We'll be grinning We'll be stomping the floor So turn up the volume and let's get in gear There's a party tonight and it's happening right here It's happening right here It's happening right here Send private on comments to author:  editors@artvilla.com   Read the Whiskey Poem Of Every So Often at https://www.artvilla.com