A few beers make his mood pugnacious,
his jokes and stories more salacious,
his eye for nymphets more rapacious,
with older women most ungracious;
his appetite for fat, voracious,
swells his manly gut capacious.
With piety somewhat audacious
he calls upon his saint, Ignatius,
“Save me a bed in Heaven so spacious
that it will hold a hundred geishas.”