The Drinking Song

Drunk men stagger, drunk men fall
 Drunk men swear, that's not all
 Quite often they will urinate outdoors
 Like widowed women, drunk men weep
 Like children curled up, drunk men sleep
 Like a dog, a drunk will crawl around on all fours
 Be he broke, bum or rich rake
 His dinner, be it bread or cake
 His beverage be the worse of whiskey, finest wine
 Puke, it stinks and so it seems
 Drunkards go to great extremes
 There's yet to be a perfectly straight line
 Drunks talk strong when drunks are weak
 It's easy for a drunk to speak
 Straight from the heart
 Oh, drunks will fight, they're not afraid
 They'll kiss the mistress, make the maid
 It's a manly art
 Oh ah, but the drink a toll will take
 Blood vessels in the nose will break
 Bags beneath the eyes, another sign
 Drunks get ugly, so it seems
 Drunkards go to great extreme
 There has yet to be a perfectly straight line
 Straight line
 Drunks are friendly when they're drunk
 Drunks are hostile when they're drunk
 Which drunk it is, it all depends upon
 When drunks aren't drunk, they thirst for drink
 Elephants are gray not pink
 The drink evaporates, the man is gone
 Gone back to the yachts and the subway cars
 And the hip-flasks, and the fruit jars
 Flat on the face, flat on the behind
 Drunks get drunk, so it seems
 Drunkards go to great extreme
 There has yet to be a perfectly straight line
 Straight line
 Straight line
 Straight line