It's Not In Any Glass (early years poem)i

Pull pull up a stool friend
And I'll buy you a drink
Did you come here for the company
Or did you just come in to drink

Don't bother with your name friend
For we never use them here
Just order up your poison
Be it whisky, be it beer

The company here is mellow
But the conversation lies
But no one really bothers
It's the truth from which we hide

My liver is shot to hell friend
And the veins show on my face
The benefits of drinking
And years spent in this place

Would you take a tip from me lad
If you will look at my bloodshot eyes
Just finish off your drink friend
Then go home and live your life

Can't remember when I wrote this one, guessing pre 1998, again unseen till now.