You can cram every dram
past your smile, takes a while until you feel right.
Might taste vile, much like bile,
maybe Spam or old toe jam, which is no delight.
But don't ingest it all; I will moan
if you disarm the pharmacy.
So darling, save the last dram for me.

Don’t want blow and ain’t gonna whine for sparkling wine,
that stuff’s no fun.
Quaffing drink—I have got no heart for distilled art, so booze I shun.
I won’t ingest such stuff. . .makes me groan;
I’m pining for the pharmacy.
So darling, save the last dram for me.

Baby don’t you know: I’d love some mo’.
I admit that it’s a crutch,
but I never, ever will say no—
I love it oh so much!

I’m entranced by the Halcion and such drugs that spawn
in labs. . .can’t say “No!”
I could bask in Oxycodone and Hydromorphone
in spite of narcos.
But don't ingest it all; I will groan
if you ravage the pharmacy.
So darling, save the last dram for me.

So don't ingest it all; I intone,
but then you give some hash to me.
“Oh, darling, save the last gram for me!”

Save the last gram for me.