Of Brown Liquids Poem by Hannington Mumo

These for eight years I have taken,
Some joy may be said from there to emanate,
True, for the truth is best said for devil's dismissal,
Yet I've discovered something about it of late.

There ought to be a distinction between wisdom and folly,
And many an idiot has found refuge in the veiling of wine;
Although brown glasses don't straight away make fools,
Most drinking fellows cannot always fake to be fine.

And if you are of a different opinion a showdown would be alright; -
Mention those wise fellows of yours who drink like the fishes of Nile,
And I'll rattle a list of wasted stalwarts - courtesy of booze,
And I'll still tell you more names if you let me think for while.

I'm of the firmest conviction that booze ain't the best way at all,
I may have it for its fine mirages and addictive little pleasures
But it doubtless will befog my restraints and stain my sober judgments,
And make it implausible to exploit Nature's treasures.

Is it not therefore fine to bid adieu my drinking mates?
Willy, my foremost gentleman who loves the sip,
Benson, a clinical man who cannot have enough of these,
Aggrey, the only man surviving his long drip!