Then down to my local I’d stray,
And prop up the bar
As I sampled a jar
Of the ales that they had on display.
But once, as I stood there mid-sup
A woman slunk quietly up,
And in whispers outlandish
Offered me some brigandage,
And to watch her tee-shirt get torn-up.
I didn’t have much time to think,
And blurted before I could blink;
“You offend with your carry-on,
Go crissari another man’s drink!”