My mother loved nothing more,
Than to quaff, Champagne galore.
What was her favourite? It slips my mind,
So many bottles, not enough time!
...
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Hmmm....I'm trying to decide if this is a humorous write or a more sorrowful write as in having a neglectful mother who drinks too much? I like though how it is left up to the reader to interpret!
This poem is brilliantly written, not a wasted word or a break in its forward rhythmic drive. I was carried along by the jovial tone, even though I couldn't keep up with the drinking. Enough is enough, more than that limit is no longer a pleasure but a compulsion. So I see the poem as both a celebration of good spirits (both alcohol and feelings) and a warnjng against excesss.