I’ve been writing a lot of toasts lately, which is ironic because I’m awful at actually giving them.
What I know now and what I should have realized then is that I should have made them rhyme. They would have been more successful.
A few of my current favorites:
A toast to the boys from back home;
Who made me the man that I am;
One day a year;
We all do this cheer;
and go back to not giving a damn.
Hoist a cup to those interred
In memory where they lay;
And if you choke
It’s their cruel joke
They hated you anyway.
Here’s to my friend, a singular man
And his peculiar smell that lingers.
Always a pal
He’ll raise your morale
Just don’t pull one of his fingers
Here’s to a night out with the boys
Making memories as we go.
Always high-fiving
And always imbibing
Together the travelling shit show.
Gather round and raise your mug
To another auld land syne.
It’s been swell
and it’s just as well
‘cause I had sex with all of your wives.
Okay that last one doesn’t rhyme. I never said it was easy.
No comments:
Post a Comment