Al Cohol smiled so cheerily at me,
A friend indeed he seemed to be.
When he gave a peculiar sneer of contempt
I wasn't the object, I was exempt,
Or so I imagined in my cups.
But it occurred to me, between sups,
If this was a friend - if you get my thrust -
He was one I couldn't quite trust.
As the years went by we shared so much;
I swore that forever we'd keep in touch.
But I had my doubts as to his worth
As he drained my purse and plumped my girth.
And then my health gave cause for fear;
I felt my end come swilling near.
Had I been my old self I'd have taken fright,
As he looked at me as a murderer might.
Came the bared teeth, the bite, the greed;
A fiend for a friend he was, indeed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem