Tell Me Your Troubles
I’ve heard ‘em all, sir. Every one.
The cheating wife, the stubborn son,
the stupid boss; the kitchen sink.
You take a seat, order a drink
and, soon enough, you lend my ear
to troubles soaked in scotch and beer
One mug, two mug, three mugs tossed
straight down the hatch: hell with the boss!
You’ll learn that boy. You’ll kick his ass;
replace your wife with some young lass.
You pound the bar and slap my arm.
Bleary and weak, you’d bet the farm
your new friend (me) can cure all ills.
In sooth reverse: you pay my bills.
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