He accused me of taking
A wad of the green
And though I postulate
The thought is obscene
Still he maintained
A theif was I
And there it was
I started to cry
Of all the things
I’ve done I regret
Not once did I
Steal someone’s wad with intent
So I thought on
And then sadly I fell
Not knowing if he
Or if’t was I had the spell
For three days I thought on’t
And after did say
If I can’t remember,
It must be the tray
State induced
Was my meanor
When looking did I
Find nothing around
But a bottle of dry
I started drinking
And my mind did produce
An array of ideas
but nary a truce
For one starts to wonder
When accused of a deed
If maybe the accuser
Isn’t a seed
Whence this thought did come
I came with a keeper
If I drink all the Veuve
He can’t call me reaper
I looked at the bottle
Chilled all so well
But when’t was opened
No good did i smell
I’ve heard that Veuve
Is the poor man’s Dom P
But not for this little
Bitch by the sea
Hating Veuve and knowing
He’s in such a stooper
When he returns from his trial
Will he notice the snooper?
An idea I can’t
Possibly entertain
As I am a pawn
In his sick little game
So leave me alone
You accusing old goof
Because t’wasn’t I
Who Made off with your Veuve
by Bethany Ryan sometime a long time ago