Mess, mess….

The drink…I did it again:
This time, not my sleeve; my neckwear is drenched
and stainy.
I’m not even a lush—
can’t make that excuse; I am just a klutz.
There’ll have to be cleansing;
at the dry cleaner I will be—
so shamed me, shamed me

Oops! I dipped it again:
I bathed my cravat; it’s soggy and stained;
it’s needs a laving.
Oops! My neckwear got dunked;
in the soup…I’m not drunk!
I’m just not dexterous.

Might be a slip of the wrist
or a finger-splay,
or as I’m walking, a nasty toe twist.
My tie will have to pay
for all my gourmandy gaucherie today.
It lead to a drenching
and a truly embarrassed me
so shamed, me; stained me

Oops! I dipped it again:
I bathed my cravat; it’s soggy and stained…
think I can save it.
Oops! My neckwear got dunked;
in the soup it was plunked.
I’m not that dexterous.

No, no….

On I gorge.
Swimming inside the bowl
is my necktie, which now is plaid,
plated with many-hued ingredients in the soup mix.
Oh, what a fix!!
I’ve again dropped the dangling accessory into the vessel’s deep end.
How shameful!
It drips now onto my new shoe…
and splatters my spat.

Oops! I’m dripping again.
My just-bathed cravat to my shoe has drained—
I’ve gotta lave ’em.
Because they both got dunked
I will try to get drunk…
my paw slips…vest is wet.