Two Beers

Two Beers

Larry came into my bar
Every day to drink two beers.
"My brother’s dying; one’s for him,"
He said, his eyes full of tears.

Each day it was the same,
Two beers and then he’d go,
One for his brother, one for him,
He’s sad but sweet, this schmo.

One day he orders just one.
His brother’s dead, I’m thinking.
I asked him, but he replied,
"No, it’s me; I’ve given up drinking."