Hobbo's Poems
A quirky look at life from a Yorkshire poet and his dog's perspective
Hangover
Posted on 27th May 2022
Hangover It's one of my sillier tricks, Hence the reason I'm getting so pudgy. Whisky and cider don't mix And I'm sure that I've swallowed the budgie.
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The Drinking Game
Posted on 6th Sep 2021
The Drinking Game A small glass of whisky things don't look too risky. A nice pint of beer, my conscience is clear. A half of strong cider, my grin's getting wider. The bottle of red goes straight to my head. A quick vodka shot and she's looking quite hot. I won't need the brandy, I'm already randy. One more white wine, the whole world looks fine. She is on the gin she says with a grin. I feel a bit merry as I switch to sweet sherry. She, a good sport, remains on the shorts. Round to my place? Whoah, that would be ace! I grab a quick stout before passing out. She's now cross with me, the pub's licencee. I can not think why, perhaps, it's that pie!
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Lounge room lizard
Posted on 8th Jun 2021
Lounge room lizard He purchased a small glass of red Intending to tempt her to bed, But he had to stop and rethink When it turned out she drank like a sink.
Hobbo's Poems 