The dragonclaw sits by the bed
ashes split amongst wine drops
The mouthpiece I wipe clean of red
But pillow shams are plummy sops
A corner holds a few bags crumpled
The pitcher an unfinished ale
Four posters hardly even rumpled
The floor however, tells the tale
This whole vignette- this dreadful sight
My party tales do tell on me
Í sigh and pack my well-loved pipe
And coax it to flame most gently.
It makes things right- five farthing blend,
and what of last night shameless glory?
The smoke shoppes closed today my friend
But that, alas's another story!
