Eighty Drinks

A/N: So yet another poem for you guys! Enjoy!

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Eighty Days ain’t enough, so I travel with drinks,

A new one for every country I go.

In Eighty Days you might see quite a few things,

But the world offers far more than you know.

Sure we can see aplenty, perhaps even reasoned enough.

But the world is far more than merely a lot.

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Starting in Denmark, I begin with aquavit,

Eyes burning as the liquid goes down.

Crazy Vikings! I think, ignoring I’m one,

Wishing my drink wore a parasol as crown.

I fully well know how us Danes; we boast with our beer.

How we lift our Little Blues, our aquavit and cheers.

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In Paris of France, it’s a few absinthes which follows,

And I wake up in Monte Carlo quite unexplained.

I remember drinking and colours and music and kisses,

And gambling what money my pockets contained.

Thank the Gods I forget my pin, when I’m pissed-ass drunk,

Or for the rest of my trip I’d be forced to travel as a monk.

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I got an aguardiente in Columbia, a roll of the tongue,

To enjoy as the sun baked me from above.

Too hot to party, I let my eyes drift shut,

Doing as the locals and saying I’ve worked enough.

For now it’s Siesta and with a cool drink in my hand,

My and my aguardiente enjoy the Columbian brand.

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Seventy-seven drinks to go, but just for now I think it might be over,

Partly so I’ve something left to look forward to, but mostly because of this hellish hangover.