Alcoholic Baby Come to me my alcoholic baby, Cuddle up and don't get tight. You've consumed a lot of whiskey, baby I thaink that should hold you for the night: Not ev'ry stomach has an iron-clad lining Wait until the gin soaks through, And smile, my honey dear While I finish up my beer So that I can be alcoholic, too. Tune: Melancholy Baby, of course. Note: Heard from Don Frye, a saloon piano player, ca 1950 RG