I wrote this poem for a Burns Night competition to win a fancy bottle of whiskey. Criminally it didn’t win, but I was quite pleased with it, so here you go.

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I once necked a whole bottle of Glenfiddich.
All in, I’d say it took about ten minutes.
It was a present for my birthday.
I made a face as it went down.

A young man with two good eyes to see,
But unable to appreciate the finery,
That sloshed in my stomach,
As I made my way to town.

It was followed by vodka, and cider, and beer,
In freezing pub gardens at the coldest time of year.
We laughed and we shivered and the drink kept on flowing,
Not a care in the world for our lungs or our throats.

But every young man at one point or another,
In his crapulous way does consequences discover.
What goes down must come up, when limits are scrapped,
And so I painted the car park, with full-bodied oaky notes.

Photo by Adam Wilson on Unsplash