Stoli in cup—that ain’t coffee she’s imbibin’. . .
scarfs and then drains a spate of Sauvignon wine.
Mostly addled from all those snorts. . .feeling no pain;
table, under; wonder how much she has tried.

(Kräuterlikör even she abides!)

Before she blacks out she can be temperamental;
unleashed epithets can give you quite a start!
With relatives she gets too familiar,
bordering on incest-pleasy.
So she get a wide berth when she’s like that:
nephews run ratlike off; even nieces depart.

When she goes off to the mart—booze in shopping cart

Auntie’s tanked up, so I have to give her the shake.
Tighter than a drum, she’d fumble for my part;
I mean the one that emits sire power.
So I despair when she gawks there.
Germ she won’t elicit from this lancer;
I say “bye-bye”; she’s so smashed I need no headstart.

Her manners make her seem like something of a tart.
To stay away from her when she’s drinking is smart;
that’s a lesson that experience will impart.
She’ll sober up a while but then falls off the cart
and then you’ll find the bad behavior will restart.