In my condition of perpetual frowzy,
I alternate ‘twixt alert and drowsy,
And hang about with “ladies” so blowsy,
And my attitude is worse than lousy,
Perhaps I should try to be smart and dapper?
Disassociate myself from the whore and the slapper?
Dress in bespoke suits of the finest schappe?
And sip, so genteel, of a glass of grappe?