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