Ocho de Mayo

A holiday binge may be monumental—
you might be a week on the mend—
but those limes in your beer are sentimental.
My drinking’s perennial, friend.

Yearly many acquaintances recommend
I toast eggnog with the nation,
but truly dedicated drinkers transcend
such holiday limitations.

I don’t need St. Pat to bless my libations
when I’m drinking from St. James’s Gate.
No Puebla excuse for Patrón hydration;
amigo, I’ve no need to wait.

Hit the bar with no date to commemorate
I’ve got nothing to celebrate.

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