It Was Ocean Blood
A Whiz Bang gob writes to ye editor and asserts that our story in the April issue about the Scotchman who was hurt while carrying hootch was incorrect, in that the real hero was a sailor. This is the true history of the case, he avers:
The gob was coming down the street with two bottles under his pea-coat, when he saw a fellow shipmate in a fight with three men across the way. He promptly sailed across and waded in. In fifteen minutes or so he heaved to as he felt a warm liquid running down his side. Rolling his eyes heavenward, he groaned, “Oh, Gawsch! I hope I’m stabbed!”
* * *
She was a sweet and pretty miss,
So dainty and demure,
She lived down by the race track
And all the horsemen knew her.
* * *
“Don’t dress that hen inside the house,”
The wife was heard to mutter.
“All right,” said he, “I’ll stand outside
Upon the curb and gutter.”
* * *