One drink on Scotia’s night!”
Then Dave he looks acrost at me,
And I looks ’crost at Dave—
It allus after seemed to be
A kind of mootual “cave.”
For Barker sidles to’rds the bar:
“A whisky from the bin,”
Sez he, “my gay young Lochinvar!”
And I—well, I chimes in.
That was a night—we drank and stept,