whiskey sonnet #729 a gift from the French

give me your tired, your poor,
your huddled paper sack scoundrels
you bridge dwelling recluse
your refuse, your rabble
billiard hall hustlers
and pimps on the gamble
on snooker and nine ball
on whores sold like cattle
give me your lepers, your leeches
your treasonous bastards
the wicked the cruel
the flask of the masses
your poets and travelers
of hell in a basket
give me
one finger
two finger
THREE FINGER
FOUR!
LEAVE MY WHISKEY MY PEOPLE MY TORCH!