Fuddle

I drink, I drink, I fuddle

Bottle after bottle after bottle

My brain afloat and on its own

its contents like a muddy puddle.

I sleep, I sleep, I fuddled

My heart is pounding in my chest

My stomach roaring like a sewer

its contents like a muddy puddled

I yawn, I stretch, my god, that fuddle

My tongue feels trodden like a path

My muscles ache, my head is banging

... where are my bloody sunglasses?

- Navarth

Tim R. Mortiss

Drinking whisky by the peg,
Singing songs of drunken glee.
I thought to swallow half a keg
But Tim R. Mortiss degurgled me.

Not precisely comme il faut,
To practice frank polygamy;
I might have practiced, even so.
But Tim R. Mortiss disturgled me.

Chorus:
Tim R. Mortiss, Tim R. Mortiss,
He's a loving friend.
He holds my hand while I'm asleep,
He guides me on my four-day creep,
He's with me to the end.

To woo a dainty Eskimo
I vowed to swim the Bering Sea.
No sooner had I wet a toe:
When Tim R. Mortiss occurgled me.

A threat arcane, a fearful bane
Within an old phylactery.
I turned the rubbish down a drain,
Now Tim R. Mortiss perturgles me.

Chorus (with a snapping of fingers and clicking of heels in mid-air)

Tim R. Morriss, Tim R. Mortiss,
He's a loving friend.
He holds my hand while I'm asleep,
He guides me on my four-day creep,
He's with me to the end.

- Navarth