Desperado went searchin’ high and low across the west for an ice cold beer. Everywhere he went, it was warm beer or whiskey, so he travelled on. He’d finally had enough. Lips dry and cracked, he asked the next barkeep if his beer was cold. “No sir, hadn’t seen the ice man for weeks.” “Give me a whiskey, barkeep.”“Sorry, mister, but the only other thing we have is cold spring water.” “Warm beer it is.”
