Jim the monkey

Oh i had a monkey,
who's name, it was jim.
only problem was he like to
drink loads of vodka and gin.
Well, it all began at the circus,
when jim the monkey was but a lad.
his trainer gave him a whiskey
and from that day in he was had.
Jim drank three pints a day then,
i didn't know where to begin.
so i took all of his tonic and water
and chucked away all his gin.
Well, from that day forth i saw nothing
(at least for two years and one day)
and then when i opened the front door
i thought that the milkman was gay.
Well, i looked down on the ground then,
and saw something by the side of the door.
i turned the corner and what did i see
but jim's small and furry paw.
I picked him up, carried him inside
where i lay him down on the setee.
and there sat me and my poor jimmy,
him curled up on my knee.
We spent the whole evening together
talking about the good old days.
jim told me of his struggle with drugs
and how he'd turned back to his old ways.
And he passed away in my arms then,
on that cold winters night.
poor little chap on vodka and gin
couldn't keep up the good fight.
He is in a better place now,
with monkeys and vodka and gin.
in a place they like to call heaven
(in jim's case a box in a bin)
I spend the long nights by myself now
where cold and hunger eat away within.
now i've finished the vodka,
i think i'll start on the gin.