Immanuel Kant was a real pissant
Who was very rarely stable.
Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy beggar
Who could think you under the table.
David Hume could out-consume
Wilhelm Freidrich Hegel,
And Wittgenstein was a beery swine
Who was just as schloshed as Schlegel.
There's nothing Nietzche couldn't teach ya
'Bout the raising of the wrist.
Socrates, himself, was permanently pissed.
John Stuart Mill, of his own free will,
On half a pint of shandy was particularly ill.
Plato, they say, could stick it away--
Half a crate of whisky every day.
Aristotle, Aristotle was a bugger for the bottle.
Hobbes was fond of his dram,
And René Descartes was a drunken fart.
'I drink, therefore I am.'
Ted McGuire the loquacious Squire
really loved his Stout
When in his cups he said straight up
what Leibniz was about
To deconstruct with lots of luck
he could be quite a tout
And with his wine he did opine
Sir Isaac was devout
Yes, Socrates, himself, is particularly missed,
A lovely little thinker,
But a bugger when he's pissed.
(Additional verse by Sandy Mitchell.)
