Drunkard Denis had a pal
who was a real party-animal.
This creature was called Chris
and he, too, liked to get pissed,
but also danced with dolls, dames,
birds, chicks, this cock whose name
the girls at the parties all knew.
They'd crisscrossed, a night or two,
his part of the partying town.
A hunk, a beefcake, he got around.
Yes got around, going far and fast
like a motorcar, although smashed.