The jestin' pro was sober, was poised for a manic sort of scrawl
A grand display of rhymin', expectin' to thrill and win them all
His virtues had been witnessed and his scansion feats renowned
Many puns in evidence and not many put down
He was plannin' for some wordplay, lookin' for a crafty start

His mood it crossed from cheer to gloom. "This is tough, I'm getting stumped," he said
"With every pun I sense my doom, must shake this ruing before it turns to dread."
Then his balkin' muse estranged him, as the task was much too grim
Could his mind repel descent and climb disposed to win?
Then his mood drifted to horror, spaced out by his hackneyed art

Wacked pace this work displayed could drive bard-studs to beware
"Lily..." was too mean. He would go from poor to worse to rash despair
Outsized, this feat was still undone, the winner would glow with pride
A mental freeze was growin', to proceed was suicide
"Lily..." was a sucker bet and too tough to grasp and parse

"Big Jim" was eighty proof. He poured an ounce, slowly primed his mind
He played with musical semblance, lookin' for matches to the rhymes
With his odd regard for killer changes everywhere embraced
He looked to better the swaps he used and he craved for faultless pace
But his odd regard for killer change was so lax that he cracked a fart

Prose varied, jokes were spare, he looked disparaged and he frowned
He wished he could imbibe more, lookin' for some Beam to power down
A clutter of tall wine glasses, but whiskey nowhere near
Gnarly, snarlin', trashed the place, but his vision seemed unclear
He was starin' with distaste, sober as a plastic carp

"I know I'll need a case or more, 'Big Jim' to get me through this hell."
"Maybe down at Texaco there's some liquor up on some bloody shelf."
But then some plows and vans did cram the streets and the stoplights did spin
And in the harshness of the gloom there was no way to get in
Glarin' was this flustered guy who just knew he'd have to park

Patrick was persistent, he had dared him to best this task in style
To rib and sever with attitude, to add that bourbon blast to the rhymes with guile
He'd subbed away with a jokin' tone, had mocked the strangest airs
He'd penned some very shockin' lines and spoofed with clever flair
But he'd never tried anything quite like this drastic lark

The haggard clutz caved in, his goal now: scan for Beam to find and buy
His frilly little frau crept up, a growin' need to sway her petty guy
She had told all aloud his skill it had no spring
And stuffy unclever puns seemed just silly, had no zing
No subbin' ever would, unless mocking his flaccid part

Blown marriage, bard had thinkin' jarred by seethin' stern objections from his wife
She had tired of his obsession, tired of livin' the poster-widow life
She had slung a lot of bashings, steamed and stunned by stupid writes
Was lookin' to view just one good read before her flight
She was strayin' from this spoofer, striving to, at last, depart

Chilling loss of grace, shook and stressed out, his marriage split to stay
As her truck pulled out she hassled him, "Well, I guess you've gone and thrown it all away
She glared and caused this clutz to crawl, there was bad news yet to face
She'd gladly bleed this spoofer dry, her lawyer on the case
Soused and falling, inept and clumsy, for the clash was harsh

A mad-paced panic stirred, was racing like a hound on a tear
"Heart's thumping funny, something's wrong," he said, "I am in need of some repair."
He called to get an ambulance, and the ambulance showed up
But his vital factors sure seemed fine and his body up to snuff
Though his old doctor said, "Beware, liquor made your panic start."

Shrill alarm had knocked him down, the man said he'd nearly had enough
She had dropped all her lousy plans, she wouldn't scam this hound of all his stuff
He ditched his woe, he tried some gin, and he belted down some beer
With nothin' left to pour, he fell helplessly to drear
Substance of this write was too trite and was lackin'spark

Open room a circus tent, but he'd stay till this massive ditty clicked
He probed through this messy room in hopes to find a slow-dissolvin' Vicks
Then "Big Jim" was spotted there, he wouldn't be deprived
No scary night of dyin', ready to survive
He would sip "Big Jim", and he'd complete this stupid task of farce

Two more rounds, the clutz finally made it through his scrawl
The Beam had a rank taste, it seemed that it had lost its bite and all
Though the harshness left him quiverin', he craved another round
Just one more bender to bear witness and get plowed
But a hookup blew a circuit, switched out to black and dark

The next day was judgment day, the write, a load of crap so slack
"Big Jim" splayed, ruptured up, spilled when the den light flicked to black
An ode very long and shallow, he hadn't cleaned the chinks
The haggard clutz was sober and addled by the stink
Was lonely, hurtin', out of Beam, miffed about the flack to start

The marathon was ended now, 'twas time to post and be scared
Writing had already taken all of the rhymes he had to spare
He was drinkin' bottled water through a very garish straw
Slinkin' 'round so wary, and thinkin' about the flaws
But, most of all he was thinkin' 'bout his lack of smarts