There is no one since early eighties
Fueled by choices trite and weighty
That didn’t have a drunken past
Though recall foggy, the pain still lasts
My cursed drink that’s highly flammable
It encapsulates my “spirit animal”
And it’s as chichi as they come
Iconic Malibu White Rum…
In a cocktail, creamy white
With fruits of tropic, pure delight!
It goes down smooth with cloying finish
Coco-nutty and yet delish-ish
But here’s the rub you might forget
It’s the tipple with hint of regret
So sweet it goes down way too quick
What’s worse the sugar makes you sick
So wrong it’s right, it got me drunk
Served with some canned pineapple chunks
I didn’t say I had good taste
But successfully it laid to waste
So many nights of youthful pranks
To Malibu, I give you thanks
Though my virgin palate you did coddle
You’re still bad choices in a bottle!