I do know what it is that makes me love it so;
I’ll even drink a lowly tumbler of Old Crow.
Those dudes started something
In Kentucky.
Now let me wet your whistle—
Won’t you please join me?
So stash that nasty brew;
I only want my Beam in you.

I love to quaff it, cached in casks of oak, whose hue’s
Imparted to the mash from which Bourbon ensues.
When it’s done, we’re lapping it up—what bliss!
I’d love to give to you a huge hooch-perfumed kiss.
My mission now is true:
I only want my Beam in you.

Dew drops. . .you smiled at me
And asked me for another dram.
You said it made you warm. . .
A tingly feeling in each gam,
Smooth as silk, honey.
You want to imbibe another healthy share;
I pour another tumbler, then make it a pair.
Then you started something
That randied me:
Your fingers firmly set
To get a hold on me.
A hander’s what you do;
I’m growing as the beats accrue.

Oh, oh! Dew drops are defiling me;
You spanked my chimpanzee, and
It gave a workout to your arm—
Again I’ve a standing gland;
It’s bristlin’, honey.
I just want to be astride you, drenched in there—
That schlong now sere then wetter, humping my au pair.
Won’t you part that fun thing
And then clamp me?
I’ve got my lingam set
To have a yoni spree.
You batted it, it’s true,
Emboldened by the Beam in you
You’ve wrenched and batted, I splatted much with dew.
I’m bonely—want my beam in you.