clambake

An Ode to Matt McCormick

Alas, poor Matt. I hardly knew ye.
Never did I compete 'gainst your gambling fury.
I saw him at the Cubs game the day before
Sadly, they lost -- 6 to 2 the score.
While the rest of us drove, he took the train,
And for that day, I wasn't to see him again.
Next, Shawn's party, fireworks galore!
Matt would be there, I'd see him once more.
Alas, with Mark Smith, he had to drive,
Drove him to the bottle, once he did arrive.
Three sheets, no four, gone before I got there,
I mean I saw him but his mind was not aware.
After darkness fell, Matt was nowhere to be found.
A quick search proved he wasn't around.
Searched, did we, searched up and searched down.
Searched the bar, the other party, searched the whole town.
And then we thought "The Lake," Lorraine by name.
Could her still waters be our great shame?
Police were called, descriptions given,
Hoped they could help us find him, alive but hidden.
But no, drunk and tired he had sought a place to sleep,
None could be more comfy than the back of Baptist's jeep.
There in front of us, all along,
He awoke, unaware of anything wrong.
Returned to the party, oblivious of our distress,
And found that in just sleeping, he caused quite a mess.
So in the end, all's well that ends well,
But do it again Matt, and I'll see you in @%(*!