You bitch! Why didn't you just say a rum and Coke?!
Everything ends badly, otherwise, it would never end.
I am the world's last barman poet! I see America drinking the fabulous cocktails I make. America is getting stinking on something I stir or shake. The Sex On The Beach...the Schnapps made from peach! The Velvet Hammer...the Alabama Slammer! I make things with juice and froth, the Pink Squirrel...the 3 Toed Sloth. I make drinks so sweet and snazzy, the Iced Tea...the Kamakazi! The Orgasm...the Death Spasm. The Singapore Sling...the Ding a Ling. America you're just devoted to every flavor I've got, but if you want to get loaded...why don't you just order a shot! Bar's open!!
If Jordan gives birth to a fine Irish son /There be Cocktails and Dreams for him one day to run /A business that shall yield a financial windfall ("It better!", Uncle Pat interjects followed by laughter from Brian)/To be franchised in every suburban shopping mall. /Now, if a daughter arrives to bless our clan /I guess the shit will certainly hit the fan/But this I shall promise to thee /I'll never let her marry a guy like me /Still if our child is the naughtiest of girls or the wildest of young men / I swear I'll be the best dad I can / And never ever get spooked again.