They’ll sit over Paris,” said Mr. Bangs,
“A-drinking cocktails ad infinitum.”
Here we got down, and the driver said,
“Vell, you’re of the kind that will allers bang ’em!”
And turning our mocassins homeward, we sped
To that great American wigwam, the Langham.
Said Bangs, “O’er my eyes there is drawn no wool.
That man has no heart who would tell you a mock tale;
But story for story I told to the Bull,
What I call a real American cocktail.”