Something about pregnant penguins and pudding?

"Something about pregnant penguins and pudding?"
said the wise young lady to the drunken old liar.
"Ooh arr, that ye will have" his breath stinking of booze,
from the Sunday soiree, shooting the shit at the saloon.

So the wise little lady sat down and prepared herself
to be amazed by the old liars lyrical prowess.
She had heard so many times before
about his dreams, hopes and above all else his madness.

He took up his pen and on the paper he wrote,
'Alas m'lady I is too drpunk to be poemly'
and so he retired to his bedroom in drunkenly fashion,
sending obscure ornaments crashing to the ground.

The wise little lady had but two choices,
ensure he slept safe or leave for pastures new.
She was disturbed by his drunken devilishness
but she acknowledged as well his admiration for her.

So she proceeded up those steep little steps,
drowned in the sweat of the drunken fool
and tentatively edged twards the bedroom
praying for his safety, to say nothing of hers.

She pushed open the door and saw his sleepy head
peeking out from under the sheets, and so
she too lied down, putting her arm round his corpse.
And it was the soundest nights sleep he ever had.