There once was a gal with no brain
Who wouldn't come in outta the rain.
What with rent, death, and taxing,
It wasn't relaxing
To handle the everyday strain.
Then an idea came—
What was I thinkin'?
I'll just take up drinkin'!
And all of my troubles will
Go down the drain.
So this Bud's on me
And all's well
And all of my problems
Can just go to hell!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem