I don't know it this is the poem referred to.

I learned it (as, basically, a one-verse song) from Bobbi in Portland circa 2005. (I remember singing it for Caroline Paton at the Folk-Legacy booth at NEFFA sometime in the mid-'oughts.)

Gin, gin was Mother's ruin.
Father was touched off by wine.
Poor Aunt Jane was afraid of champagne
While Uncle preferred turpentine.
My sister got awfully frisky
On rum mixed with stout mixed with whiskey...
But gin, gin was mother's ruin.
And Mother's ruin will be mine."

Linn, hoping to be helpful.