One hundred years, Old George achieved,
The fuss could barely be believed;
The cake, the party, quite a 'do',
A telegram from Lizzie, too.
In geriatric glow he basked,
"What is your secret?" he was asked.
"Without a word of lie or levity,
How did you manage such longevity?"
"Temperance," was his stern reply,
"I've spent my life completely dry.
I never gave a passing thought
To absinthe, ouzo, sherry, port."
Tequila, whisky, cognac, wine,
Have never stained these lips of mine.
No gin, no beer, no rum, no schnapps;
Not for one instant did I lapse!"
Just then there came a fearful din
As if the ceiling might cave in.
A shout of rage, an angry thump
Made all those there assembled jump.
"Oh, no!" cried George; his face showed pain,
"My bloody father's drunk again!"
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