A poem to drink, by rum

Rum in my tum,
oh joy! Yum yum!
Is it dumb to have some?
A cake of rum is moist to the last crumb
and will make my tongue numb! Now that’s anything but humdrum.
I’d spend a tidy sum, filch quarters from my Mum
or bankrupt an old Kingdom, like Dokkum,
and put up my thumb for some coke and rum.
But there’s a limit: none of Stephen’s redrum or bomb of radium
will I plumb or from anyone bum.
But, save that, there’s no tedium or idiom
I won’t endure or learn to make handsome my tum-
bler! Ask any medium (or the message), even one wearing a chrysanthemum,
or any UW alumn and they’ll tell you that all you’ll wring from
my body when I’m dead become, and dug up from under the Madagascar Plum,
is good ol’ rum, ’cause I’ll abide no other spirit, not even from a Mountain Swamp Gum.


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