At present when we our liquor pass.
(Although I recall—
’Tis three years this Fall—
When travelling in the wilderness,
And things were all in an awful mess,
And our crockery, with a horrible crash,
Had gone its way to eternal smash)
(It came, as the driver allowed, from racin’),
We drank champagne from a tin wash-basin.
Excuse the digression—non est crimen—