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Sunday Morning Nightmare

Boozing away, drinking all night
Don’t really care if you get into a fight.
Having great fun, going to great places
But tomorrow you’ll be moving at very slow paces.

Its midday on Sunday and the rooms spinning round
You’re under the covers not making a sound.
And you pray to God, the roller coaster will halt
Asking him is this really my fault.

You analyse your food, now that’s got you thinking
It must be that kebab, it’s never my drinking.
It can’t be the cider, the vodka and mix
It must be that kebab, that’s making me sick.

The sweating has started, your hearts started thumping
You’re starting to itch, and your body is jumping.
You’re talking to God on that big white phone
Praying that the Devil will leave you alone.

You drift off to sleep and the nightmares begin
The Devil is calling you, because you have sinned.
Then you start thinking, could this be the day
The BIG MAN is coming to take me away.

When you awake you find it ironic
All you want to do is search for a tonic,
Two small tablets and a glass of Irn Bru
That’s all you need, to really fix you.

A whole day is lost and nothing is gained
You can be thankful, that you still remain.
You can only take heed and be forewarned
About that dreaded curse of “JOHN BARLEYCORN”

Jimmy Whelan (2009) Copyright

 There was three kings into the east,
   Three kings both great and high,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
   John Barleycorn should die.

        ( Robert Burns 1782 )