The party is over,
The feast and potations are consumed,
Only crumbs of crackling and wine vapours remain,
The bodies have scarpered,
And now comes the crash,
And plunge you shall,
Fatigue comes like a plague,
The joy from before feels like a dream,
Yesterdays consumption has become a force of gravity,
Roast beef like boulders on each eyelid,
The sofa is your workbench for the day,
And post-revel debilitation is todays vocation.
WorldofHarley 