Good mooring, good mooring;
we sailed the ocean blue.
Good mooring, good shoring—
trip’s through
Good mooring, good mooring;
can’t wait to ’nebriate
Good mooring,
booze pouring is due.

Off we shamble to a place where we can all get tight.
Lift a glass up to the face, and soon we’ll feel alright.

So, good pouring, pouring;
Jim Beam just fine will do.
Good pouring, good pouring ensues.

Dude’s pouring, dude’s pouring.
He don’t stint; that’s a coup.
No warring o’er pouring a slew.

In the morning, in the morning,
we might bemoan our fate:
hungover, hungover beaucoup.

When we leave, we’re moving slow and not walking quite right.
It’s nearly dawn, and we had spawned at least one bad bar fight.

The gore is pouring,
it’s pouring…
got shiners black and blue.
Not soaring, but soreing.

Maljour, horreur
Malas dias
Gotta pee, us
Barf pour
Baaaaaaarrrrrfffff!!!!
Schlechter Morgen
Lost this morning
Bad moorings from booze.