(Inspired by a story by Richard Chin)
I started as a beer miler a long, long time ago;
When I could run a mile real fast and drinking made me glow.
I wasn’t bingeing, not at all; the experts testified
That downing beer while running would not ever get me fried.
I ran and drank, and drank and ran, and so the years did twinkle;
Until one day I woke up feeling more like Rip Van Winkle.
My clothes in rags, my beard snow white; a stranger to the world.
My loved ones gone and me alone; I very nearly hurled.
My legs have given out on me; I cannot run a yard.
And Leinenkugel’s left my liver bloated, green and scarred.
And so I sit and drink, and drink and sit, and wonder why
They made my drinking seem as wholesome as warm apple pie.