Too Much Drink Poem by Robert Melliard

Returning from some boring, distant meeting,
we, a group of colleagues, drank too much:
wine before lunch; during, after; then liqueurs...

Later, in our rented minibus again,
we settled down to telling jokes -
sillier and naughtier by the hour -
until the last one, rightly timed, had us spluttering for miles.

For me, it was a welcome break from grief.
Next morning, headaches all round,
and cirrhosis one step nearer...