Mephs attempt at lighthearted poetic banter

Gather round my jovial mates,
And take a butchers at this.
Tables and tables, crates and crates
Of beverages to get you pissed!

Come one, come all
And hoist up a brew
Drink it up, we’ll all have a ball.
We’ll guzzle too fast, we’ll guzzle too much,
And we shall most probably spew.

Thats it everybody, guzzle and chug!
Theres plenty more to go.
Soon enough, you’ll all want a hug
And your speech will be slurred and slow.

More crates are opened,
The nectar runs free
3 minutes ago was the time of your last pee.

And so we near the end of our fest,
And the legs begin to give way.
People are wobbly, they laugh and jest
And they wander about with a sway.

Some make it home, but others not so,
They pass out in toilets and sinks.
Their heads spin and swirl,
The intoxication doth grow
What a state! The sober visiter thinks.

All are passed out, or staggering home,
And their memories shall soon be erased,
Because beer affects your head-noodle,
And can leave strict nuns un-chaste.

Ovens Are For Trained Personel Only:

The oven is a vile foe,
He is sly and sneaky and mean.
He’ll pounce swift and deadly
With a vast flaming medly
That will set alight your big toe.

For ovens are for trained personel only,
Like mothers, cooks and TV chefs.
Their temprements are twitchy,
Their heat can make you itchy
But are needed to stop you getting bony.