Dean Martin when the eddy was flowing laughing was coming.
Feelings of, the rat pack is good.
Sammy,
there was something even then, very Joey.
Yellow, martini like men with age it matures.
Desires still they are, it is one like me, you as well.
When it is a meal, before the dancing starts,
I am buried.
Daren bewitching martini's in her was something.
And it is the truth,
that it is not vermouth.
As for me perhaps that it is that you think, melancholics.
Then falling back on straight gin.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem