Dry Dry Dry
There's a beer river up at San Miguel. We went up there
to the brown river. A little wooden boat carried our souls. Not to safety. We
all fell into the beer river! I was floundering so bad. The three others couldn't
save me; nor me them. Beer engulfed us. It was each to their own. Save your
skin. Not before drinking your fill. The others preferred San Mig Lite. I had
Red Horse. I was called Lucky as I spied a bottle of Happy Horse. I swear the
horse was smiling. We drank the San Miguel river fucking dry dry dry. I burped
when I was done. Drank my fill. As had the rest. I staggered shoreward. Leaving
our upturned boat on river bed. If you read this, tell them we drank the San
Mig river dry dry dry. And it don't exist no more. Except in myth and legend.
So I'll spare you the Antipolo Jeepney ride there. Don't go looking for it. We
drank the San Mig river dry dry dry.
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