The Hooch Cure Blues
By M. V. Sumner.
Bring me a dry Martini, waiter, and chase it with something that’s wet.
I went to a pink tea yesterday and I haven’t got over it yet.
I heard they’ve discovered the North Pole, waiter, Gee, I wish I had it here now,
They couldn’t come any too cold for me to put on my aching brow.
’Twas a stormy night at sea, waiter, and the waves ran mountains high,
Personally, I was souzed to the gills and today I am awfully dry.
Yes, ’twas a frightful night on the sea, and many are missing, I think,
But as near as I can remember, I never missed a drink.
The one in blue got my spark, waiter, her side pal got my clock.
Oh, I don’t want to know the time, waiter, just lead me down to the dock,
Yes, lead me down to the dock, waiter, for a watery grave I pine,
The place for a man that’s pickled is over his head in the brine.
Just tell them I am at the “Murray” cure, waiter, that I died as a hero should;
Up to my neck in the cold old suds, guaranteed drawn from the wood.
Say, after I’ve sank in the deep, waiter, you’ll do me one favor, I hope,
Tell ’em if I blow up bubbles that ’twasn’t from eating soap.
* * *
Who puts me in my little bed
And spanks me till my face is red?
My Mother.
* * *