And wasters stopped alive.
And here, to-day, I’m t’ilin’ still
Beside the same old soak
Where we pitched camp twelve years agone,
Played out and stony broke;
And after work I think right back,
And smoke, and smoke, and smoke.
We two were fitted, j’int fer j’int,
And toiled and starved and spreed;
But one ’ud watch around the stump