'Keep Them Coming Till I Say Not To, Or Until You Throw Me Out . . . '

NEW YEAR'S EVE ON CHEW AVENUE 
(1962)
By ARNOLD SCHNABEL

It's New Year's Eve, it seems we've made it,
If only barely, through another year;
The terror, if not gone, has abated
Into a dull and grey persistent fear.
My mother’s sound asleep by eleven,
So I go to the VFW,
Shove to the bar of this drunkard's heaven,
And say, "Pat, if you please, I'll trouble you
For a Schmidt's, backed with an Old Forester,
And keep them coming till I say not to,
Or until you throw me out; whatever;
Do what your conscience says that you've got to."
I take that first sacred drink of cold beer:
"Happy new (let’s hope it’s not our last) year."

A tip of the Hatlo to Dan Leo and Arnold Schnabel.

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