POOR RIPPY AND HIS SNORT

Rippy liked to take a snort,
Of his homemade wine,
He drank it when he woke-up,
And, every time he’d dine,

One day he ran out of homemade brew,
He felt panic from mind to sash,
He had no tension deliberator,
He could not buy any without some cash,

Poor Rippy had a mental breakdown,
It seems his mind was made of mash,
In a soft cell Rippy sits in a gown,
Against the walls his head he doth bash.