by Watt Nicoll A domineering, teetotal wife has discovered her husband's secret stash of whisky, she orders him to dispose of it, immediately... divider I pu'd the cork fae the first bottle, had a little drink, Kissed the bottle tenderly, poured it down the sink. Uncorked the second, did the same as before, Before I poured it down the sink, I drank a little more. Uncorked the third and I drank a little toast To the losing of the ten friends I really like the most. Stood to attention, had another little drink, Threw the cork in the bucket and the whisky down the sink. Oh the next three bottles they were very quickly swilled, As I uncorked the drainage, only drank a gill, But the next one caught me for the cork was very tight, The room was going round and round, which didn't help my plight. I fought to gain my balances, I leaned against the wall, I couldn't draw the room from the damn sink at all. When at last I drew it, with a mighty plop, Fell on my arse and I drank a glass of cork. The eighth sink was different, for the glass was very slack. I held the room with one hand and I knocked the bugger back. I tried to count the empties as they danced before my eyes, I'd only counted twenty three when much to my surprise, There were ten sinks of whisky, every one uncorked, The drain in the bottle it was very badly blocked. Then I heard my wife, as on the door she knocked, Fell in the bath tub, drank the bloody lot.
The end