Life At Its Fullest Is A Bit Risque
by Helen George

Donegal's Bar on the corner of West
Was holdin' its first wet t-shirt contest,
The ladies pranced with a great deal of zest,
Amid hoots and hollers and jokes and jest,
But one little gal stood out from the rest,
Tilly T. Titmouse won out as the best.

Drainin' their pints they called out for one more,
Stomped and yelled and caused a ruckus galore,
A fight broke out, there was much blood and gore,
There were ugly stains on the clothes they wore,
Then, through the din, Mike the bartender roared,
"Knock it off or you'll be seein' the door."

So they nursed their troubles and drank their fill,
Bidin' their time afore payin' their bill,
Then took themselves off to homes on the hill,
Where they slept awhile, and yet they could still,
No matter how drunk, be awake at will,
To spend another long day at the mill.

Thus, life in this village was spent each day,
Whether good times or bad times came their way,
Life wasn't easy, and yet, come what may,
They were happy in their homes by the bay,
If you asked them why, they would smile and say,
"Life at its fullest is a bit risque."