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