Friendships Are Fickle

Friendships are fickle

The old man concluded.

It put him in a pickle

About his being excluded.

One Fourth of July

His presence was included;

The next he would fly

To banished and excluded.

To the Derby party always

He brought passable bourbon

Then his favor went sideways

And his presence a burden.

So now on the Fourth

And every Derby Day

He sits in his house

Sipping the bourbon away.

Friendships are fickle

The old man concluded,

But no longer in a pickle,

No longer deluded.

He looked at his wife

And gave her a wink.

The shortness of life

Gave him pause to think.

The love of a good woman

And a few true friends

Are the way an old man

With a sad heart mends.

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