Tomorrow is the day,
I must refrain from getting pissed,
I’ll be sober as a judge,
I know I can resist...
Although the temptation haunts me,
The smell is everywhere...
With aromatic malted barley,
Yeast and hops that fills the air...
That amber coloured fluid,
With a slight but frothy head...
Will be trying it best to tempt me,
As I lie here in my bed...
With the sweet sound of beer flowing,
From the bottle to the glass...
I wait here iron-willed,
I know I’m going to last...
The shimmer of that ale,
As it stands there for all to see...
Those bubbles and the froth,
Is really taunting me...
But I remain resolute to the fact,
That I will not have a drink...
Even though my nerves are shot,
And my mind is on the brink...
I start to pace the floor,
And around the twist I go...
As my mates they all arrive,
And the beer begins to flow...
What’s the story bloke,
Are you on the wagon mate...
This becomes that final straw,
As they entice me with their bait...
Okay maybe just one to be sociable,
One is all I need...
Then I knock down that flamin coldie,
It feels like I’ve been freed...
And as the day rolls on,
My resolution went out the door...
I found myself intoxicated,
Like I've never been before...
So I learnt a little lesson,
From the events throughout that day...
That I can remain sober for quite some time,
Before I start to stray...
Len Newey 2015