His long neck and deep folds
His black suit and thin red tie
A fat pink head on a thick spike
He twists the screw into the wine
THE WINE THE WINE IS CORKED
Jokes as old as him still raise a smile
Cartoon belly-eyes and piano grin
44 teeth grinding some awful tune
A soft meat warning to others
Exhaust pours from of his snout
That burnt black bacon smell
We love him to his hard hairy rind
But all held their breath as he tucked in
