Ode To Whiskey

Why, liquor of life, do I love you so,
When in all our encounters you lay me low?
More stupid and senseless I every day grow,
What a hint - if I'd mend by the warning.

Tattered and torn you've left my coat,
I've not a cravat - to save my throat;
Yet I pardon you all, my sparkling doat,
If you'll cheer me again in the morning.