Oodles of Beer

The ad man cometh once or twice,
Spewing hints of loathing and fear.
Not to worry he says as we roll the dice,
For all we really need is oodles of beer.

We can’t all be tragically hip,
And we can’t all be trendily queer.
Young and down with the nip tuck trip,
All we really need is oodles of beer.

Oodles and oodles of beer,
Oh my.
Oodles and oodles of beer.

A six-pack in means a six-pack out?
Born on dates without a bitter leer.
Nubile nymphets who protrude and pout,
Pouring labels they get paid to tout,
More than likely not a dark and frothy stout,
Just oodles and oodles of beer.

Something’s amiss goddamn it,
Contradictions begin to appear.
I’m old and my stomach bulges a bit,
Full of oodles and oodles of beer.

Oodles and oodles of beer,
Oh my.
Oodles and oodles of beer.

Say it’s not so as I did as they said,
I drank till I puked and withstood every jeer.
But now I’m bloated and damn near dead,
Drowning in oodles and oodles of beer.

Oh my.