Martina Two

How little you gesticulate, at your inventive best, when others sneer, berate, you open every door, mend all our fences, never get bored, shattered we begin to shake, drink like all the rest, we won't stop or hesitate, fools we sing forever more, you put us to the test, ask what's the score, the night's cool probate, resides in the West, no matter what toil it takes, forbidden troubadours, demand our presence, never leave us forlorn, but twist and name, whatever cask or blend, that sweeps away the pain, my good friend