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It was just a beer, what was the big deal?
It’s just another beer, "good" is how I wanted to feel.
So I had my third, the party was rocking now,
I had another, my life was great, the girls looked WOW.
I needed the fifth, just so I could coast,
And if I played my cards right, on Monday I could boast.
Well, down went number six; the world looked so bright,
I knew that I could handle the beer, so it was all right.
The party was getting dull, it was only half past nine,
Heck, I was was out of beer, but feeling oh so fine.
Mary Anne was leaving, she had to be home by ten,
“Come on,” I said, “I always take care of a friend.”
I don’t remember much, after turning on the car,
I just can’t see why we didn’t get very far.
The lights were blinding, the voice so cold,
The policeman was crying, as I was being told,
“How could you drink and care so little about
life?
You not only killed your friend,
you killed my baby and my wife.”
I try to sleep, the cell is cold, my dreams are all the same,
I’m walking in a cloud, and Mary Anne is calling my name.
She tells me to get on with life, and it is such a shame
That "just a case of beer" has brought me this kind of fame.
I wish I could go back, but there is no way, no how,
To ease the pain and suffering, that I must live with now.
© 1997, Myrtle Wegner, People Against Impaired
Driving.
All rights reserved.
The author of this poem is a member of the Canadian
organization, People
Against Impaired Driving (PAID). Please e-mail Eloise Leckie [leckie(at)interbaun.com], president of PAID, for permission to reprint Mrs. Wegner’s poem.
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