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Whiskey Poem


Belly Full Of Whiskey

                                                                              By David Michael Jackson

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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


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