A RENCONTRE WITH A TEA-TOTALLER.
On going forth last night, a friend to see,
I met a man by trade a s-n-o-b;
Reeling along the path he held his way.
“Ho! ho!” quoth I, “he’s d-r-u-n-k.”
Then thus to him—“Were it not better, far,
You were a little s-o-b-e-r?
’Twere happier for your family, I guess,
Than playing off such rum r-i-g-s.
Besides, all drunkards, when policemen see ’em,
Are taken up at once by t-h-e-m.”
“Me drunk!” the cobbler cried, “the devil trouble you!
You want to kick up a blest r-o-w.
Now, may I never wish to work for Hoby,
If drain I’ve had!” (the lying s-n-o-b!)
I’ve just return’d from a tee-total party,
Twelve on us jamm’d in a spring c-a-r-t.
The man as lectured, now, was drunk; why, bless ye,
He’s sent home in a c-h-a-i-s-e.
He’d taken so much lush into his belly,
I’m blest if he could t-o-dd-l-e.
A pair on ’em—hisself and his good lady;—
The gin had got into her h-e-a-d.
(My eye and Betty! what weak mortals we are;
They said they took but ginger b-e-e-r!)
But as for me, I’ve stuck (’twas rather ropy)
All day to weak imperial p-o-p.
And now we’ve had this little bit o’sparrin’,
Just stand a q-u-a-r-t-e-r-n!”
A man in New-York enjoys such very excellent spirits that he has only to drink water to intoxicate himself.