On a bus I met
one day
A drunken sot
who dared to say
That my case
and suit and tie
Was offensive
to his eye
He mumbled
out profanities
He spat and
spluttered
Coughed and
wheezed
As though to
ride upon a bus
Was purely
for the drinking class
As he
muttered and he swore
Offended by
the things I wore
The folly of
his case was plain
All his funds
went down the drain
And who's to
say and who can know
How quickly
could the Sot's funds grow
If to booze
he did not choose
But spent his
money on clean trews.
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