Thought I'd begin by telling you something I oughta,
Something - for better or worse - that I share with Cole Porter
His genius it ain't, or his glittering tragical life.
It isn't his penchant for loving both men... and a wife. 
I've said it before and I'll tediously say it again:
Though once I adored it, now I get no kick from champagne.

Oh! Champagne was swell in a fluted glass
For sayin 'What the hell' with a little class
Til that Jezebel bit me in the ass
Now Baby you're the bubbly for me

Whiskey I adored, comfort in a kilt
Vigour was restored, ne'er a drop was spilt
Then I just got bored and the floor would tilt
Now Goddamn, you're the wee dram for me

Boozing is a beatific bliss until it turns into a full-time occupation
Then you better give the glass a kiss goodbye and cultivate a new flirtation

Bordeaux was treat, rosy and divine
Dry or semi-sweet, naughty but benign
Till I found defeat at the finish line
But I can bear it - you're my fav'rite claret.
Baby you're the cocktail for me.

Boozing is a beatific bliss until it turns into a full-time occupation
Then you better give the glass a kiss goodbye and cultivate a new flirtation

Vodka in your juice on the morning train.
Resolution's useless the old refrain.
Till I found defeat at the finish line.
Baby you're the cocktail, my 'been around the block' tale.
Baby you're the cocktail for me, for me, for me.