The Old Man's Stew

There was an old man from Arkansas,
Who lived on beer and cole slaw -
So much for his energy -
Those from the clergy
Say if he doesn't stop, he will flaw.

He likes to go to the Midtown Bar;
He travels there in his car -
This is where he fades
Until the night invades,
Drinking from a jar above par.

He used to be very smart,
Just as much as Mozart -
So much for his abuse
Not including his excuse,
He acts as if he's been split apart.

How much booze can one carry,
He spends time there six days a week,
For the rest of his life he seeks
To spend his precious time
Way passed his prime,
It's a wonder he stands on his own two feet.

Alcohol is the old man's foe
Now he has become another John Doe,
Instead he should be out fishing
Rather than inside drinking,
Enjoying a waly day at the voe.

But the old man has got to have his stew,
Enough so he could smell the morning dew,
He has these hunches
To drink bunches
To please the very few.

He still attends the bar,
Drinking from a jar,
With plenty of beer
Without a good career,
As a retired professor who no longer sees the stars.