HAULING HARRY HOME
I was driving down a lonely road on a dark and stormy night.
A drunken fool by the roadside showed up in my headlights.
I stopped and he got inside, and in a shakey tone,
He said: "My name is Harry; please won't you take me home?"
His breath smelled just like alcohol; his face was turning red.
His eyes were blurred and bloodshot from the liquor that he'd had.
He curled up on the back seat; he held his head and moaned.
. I never will forget the night I hauled Harry home.
I pulled into the driveway where I hoped that he would leave,
Got out to help him from the car before he had to heave.
I just could not believe my eyes looking in my door.
This drunken bozo Harry was passed out on the floor.
A light shne from the porch; the door was cracked ajar.
I asked about this smelly fool now laying in my car.
Then the lady gently smiled and put her gun away.
She said: "It sure was nice of you to go out of your way.
"But thirteen times this evening, he headed down the street
To that rowdy barroom where all his buddies meet.
Thank you for your trouble and the patience you have shown.
You're the 13th one this evening that hauled old Harry home."
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