Hard Drinking Buddy of Mine

That hard drinking buddy of mine

He says he’ll go drinking with me any time

As long as I’m paying

You know what I’m saying

That hard drinking buddy of mine

That hard drinking buddy of mine

I could call him at nine or at midnight, it’s fine

He’ll throw down a shot

Of whatever I’ve got

That hard drinking buddy of mine

That hard drinking buddy of mine

If ever a drink I’d decline

From out of the blue

Would come “you know who”

That hard drinking buddy of mine

That hard drinking buddy of mine

Would time to time drink himself blind

And when he got sober

He’d swear that it’s over

That hard drinking buddy of mine

That hard drinking buddy of mine

Would pester me time after time

Just one little drink

He’s say with a wink

That hard drinking buddy of mine

That hard drinking buddy of mine

Got married now he toes the line

Ain’t it a shame

He’s not the same

Hard drinking buddy of mine

Dedications

she used to be my whiskey girl,

always downing Wild Turkey 101 and even after ten drinks

she’d walk straight, hardly showing the effects of the elixir.

Gina would drink anything under the sun, as long

as it was in abundance. I fixed her margaritas and she loved

how I coated the glass with blow.

she was the only one eagerly swilling my hangover cures,

she had no trouble outdrinking me even when she had

to go to work and I stayed inside, draining Four Roses

and waging war on the page.

I haven’t seen her in quite a while; I moved away, to a

different country altogether,

and I still miss her smile—nothing better to kick hangover’s ass

than her full, luscious lips and hypnotizing hazel eyes.

I’m guessing she’s still dancing in that underground joint,

making money out of sexless, hopeless men.

my third gin and tonic of the day is dedicated to her. and when

I crack Wild Turkey, in an attempt to crank shit up,

I’ll dedicate the first couple of glasses to her.

afterwards, it’ll become a no holds barred match where

no one will be safe.